*&»EKfiS{KESJ*M 



PBEEACE. 



The genius of a great poet has in our own time shed a 
new lustre on the story of Arthur ; but with this exception 
the romances which delighted Englishmen of the Middle 
Ages are known to their descendants, generally, little 
more than in name. Yet these stories must possess an 
interest for all who welcome any evidence which throws 
light on the growth of the human mind, if only from the 
mere fact that for generations these tales carried with 
them an irresistible charm ; but even to this day the 
heroes whose names they bear still exercise over us in 
some faint measure the power of old associations. The 
wisdom of Merlin, the bravery of Bevis and Gruy, have 
almost passed into proverbs : and to not a few, probably, 
the name of Olger will bring up the image of the mighty 
Dane, wrapped in the charmed slumber in which he lifts 
his mace once only in seven years. But a more potent 
spell is linked with the thought of Eoland the brave and 
true, the peerless Paladin who fell on Roncesvalles. 

If the rudest traditions of savage tribes have acquired a 
new value and a new interest as supplying materials for 
the history of human culture, the inference is justified 
that from the traditions in which our forefathers took 
delight we also may reap no scanty harvest of pleasure 
and instruction. But these traditions are partly con- 
tained in books not easily accessible, or have assumed 



vi Preface. 

forms which tend to make them monotonous and weari- 
some. To this monotonous character of mediaeval 
romances generally we cannot shut our eyes: but all 
probably will feel that in the Arthur story, as related espe- 
cially by Sir Thomas Malory, the evil becomes well-nigh 
intolerable. Still, as we toil wearily through endless 
details of justs and tournaments which present no distin- 
guishing features, and through adventures of knight- 
errantry which simply repeat each other, we cannot be 
blind to the beauty of the scenes in which from time to 
time we find ourselves, or deaf to the tones which, at 
intervals, strike a chord in our hearts. 

Hence the thought that these old romances may be 
presented to Englishmen of the present day in a form 
which shall retain their real vigour without the repulsive 
characteristics impressed on them by a comparatively 
rude and ignorant age, may not, perhaps, be regarded as 
inexcusably presumptuous. With greater confidence it 
may be affirmed that, if we turn to these old legends or 
romances at all, it should be for the purpose of learning 
what they really were, and not with any wish of seeing 
them through a glass which shall reflect chiefly our own 
thoughts about them and throw over them a colouring 
borrowed from the sentiment of the nineteenth century. 

These two conditions have, it is hoped, been strictly 
observed in the versions here given of some of the great 
romances of mediaeval Europe. While special care has 
been taken to guard against the introduction even of 
phrases not in harmony with the original narratives, not 
less pains have been bestowed on the task of preserving 
all that is essential in the narrative ; and thus it may 
perhaps be safely said that the readers of this volume will 
obtain from it an adequate knowledge of these time- 
honoured stories, without having their attention and their 



Preface. vii 

patience overtaxed by a multiplicity of superfluous and 
therefore utterly irksome details. 

The result is that nine romances are given in a space 
scarcely more than half that which the Arthur story alone 
occupies in the pages of Sir Thomas Malory. Of the 
present version of the Arthur myth it may be enough to 
say that it relates many important episodes which have 
been omitted in some of the versions recently published, 
while no attempt has been made to impart a more historical 
complexion to the romance than that which it received 
at the hands of Caxton's friend. From first to last this 
alleged historical character of the myth is precisely the 
feature which, as we analyse the story, becomes more and 
more dim and vague. But as the connexion of the myth 
with the affairs of men becomes more shadowy, the real 
meaning and beauty and pathos of the legend will, it can 
scarcely be doubted, be brought out into a clearer and 
more enduring light. 

If the reception given to this volume should warrant 
the undertaking, it is proposed to include in another 
volume the more important Teutonic romances which, 
appearing in earlier days as the story of the Helgis and 
Volsungs, grew up into the Lay of the Nibelungs and the 
stories of Grudrun, of Walthar of Aquitaine, and other 
heroes whose features we recognise in other portions of 
the wide field of Aryan mythology. 

I must add that for the Introduction and for the story of 
Arthur and his Knights I am alone responsible. The 
versions here given of the stories of Merlin, Tristrem, 
Bevis, Guy of Warwick, Eoland, Olger, Havelok and Beo- 
wulf, have been contributed by Mr. Eustace Hinton Jones. 

G. W. C. 



CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTION :— 

The story of Arthur .... 

Alleged historical character of King Arthur 
Supposed historical residuum in the myth of Arthur 
Victories of Arthur and Herakles 
Origin of the Arthur romance 
Limits of the inquiry 
Growth of popular tradition 
The source of human fancy 
Myths of savage tribes 
Etymological explanations of myths 
Parallelisms in the incidents of mythical tales 
Illustrations from myths in which the names do not translate each 
other ....... 

Classifications of popular stories .... 

Tests for the detection of mythical elements in popular tradition 
Birth and early years of Arthur .... 

?. The loves of King Arthur 
Arthur and his destroyer ..... 

Arthur's sword ...... 

The scabbard of Arthur's sword .... 

Eepetition of myths in the Arthur story . 

Arthur and the fatal children .... 

The story of Balin the poor knight . : 

The two brothers ...... 



FAGK 

1 
1 

4 

6 

7 
8 
8 
8 
9 
10 
11 

12 
14 

15 
16 
18 
19 
19 
20 
21 
21 
22 
23 



Contents. 



the Knight of 



INTKODUCTION— continued. 

The invisible knight 

The sacrifice of Sir Perci vale's sister 

The marriage of Arthur and Guenevere 

The dower of Guenevere . 

Symbols of wealth 

The toils and wanderings of Arthur 

Imagery of solar myths 

The weird sisters 

Mythical cycles in the Arthur romance : (I) Arthur, (II) Balin 

(III) Lancelot 
The fourth cycle — Gareth 
Eepetition of the myth of Gareth in the episode of 

the Ill-shapen Coat 
The knights who fail, and the knight who wins 
The snake-leaves .... 
The magic ring .... 
The fifth cycle — Tristram 
The child born to be great 
Tristram the hunter and musician 
The poisoned weapons 

Parallelisms in the myths of Arthur, Tristram, and Lancelot 
Physical powers of mythical heroes 
The madness of Tristram and Lancelot 
Subordination of Arthur in the myths of Balin 

Tristram 
Talismanic tests 
The ship of the dead 
The Sangreal 

Introduction of Christian sentiment 
The two Elaines and Guenevere 
Arthur and Mordred 

The departure of Arthur to the vale of Avilion 
Composition of the Arthur romance 
The story of Be vis of Hampton 
The story of Guy of Warwick 
The tale of Eoland 
The legend of Olger the Dane 
The story of Havelok 
The loves of Argentile and Curan 
Havelok and Hamlet 
Hamlet and his uncle 
The genealogy of Hamlet . 
The saga of Beowulf 
General results of the inquiry 



PAGE 

23 
23 
24 
25 
27 
27 
29 
30 



Lancelot, and 



34 
35 
36 
36 
36 
38 
39 
40 
43 
44 

44 
46 
46 
48 
51 
52 
56 
58 
60 
61 
63 
65 
68 
70 
72 
73 
74 
76 
78 
79 



Contents. 



XI 



THE STORY OF KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS :- 







PAGK 


Chapter I. — The crowning of Arthur 


81 


„ II. — The story of Balin and Balan 


88 




, III. — The wedding of Arthur and Guenevere 


96 




, IV. — The treason of Morgan le Fay 


99 




, V. — The crowning of Arthur at Rome . 


110 




, VI. — The exploits of Sri' Lancelot du Lake 


112 




VII.— The story of Sir Gareth of Orkney 


117 




VIIL— The history of Sir Tristram 


13.5 




, IX. — The madness of Sir Tristram 


145 




, X. — The treasons of King Mark and Palamides 


152 




XL — The birth of the good knight Galahad 


164 




, XII. — The finding of Lancelot 


169 




. XIII. — The shriving of Sir Lancelot 


173 




, XIV. — The temptation of Sir Percivale 


. 182 




, XV. — The vision of Sir Lancelot 


185 




XVI.— The trial of Sir Bors 


1^88 




, XVII. — The achieving of the Sangreal 


193 




, XVILL— The story of the Maid of Astolat . 


202 




, XIX. — The judgment of Queen Guenevere . . 


. 209 




„ XX. — The siege of Joyous Gard . 


. 215 




, XXI. — The last days of Arthur, Guenevere, and Lancelot 


225 


MERLIN 


. 234 


SIR TRISTREM 


. 245 


BEVIS OF HAMTOUN 


. 268 


GUY OF WARWICK 


. 297 


ROLAND 


. 320 


OLGER THE DANE 


. 348 


HAVELOK 


. 369 


BEOWULF" ... . . 


. 382 


1NDI 


:x 


. 399 



Errata. 

Page 2, line '22. for Kykloples read Kyklopes. 

Page 76, lines 6 and 7 of note, /or declaration read declamation. 



POPULAR ROMANCES OF THE 
MIDDLE AGES. 



BY / 

GEORGE W. COX, M.A. 

AUTHOR OP 'THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE ARYAN NATIONS' ETC. 

and 

EUSTACE HINTON JONES. 




LONDON : 

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 

1871. 

All rights reserved. 



POPULAR ROMANCES. 



LONDON: PBINTED BY 

8POTTISWOODB AND CO., NEW-BTREET SQt'AEE 

AND PABLIAMENT 8TUEKT 



POPULAR EOMANCES 

OF THE 

MIDDLE AGES. 

INTRODUCTION. 

The proposition that King Arthur either is or is not an 
historical personage will be disputed by none. Happily 
the answer to this question, whether it be given The st of 
in the affirmative or the negative, has really ^kur. 
nothing to do with the origin of the world-renowned 
story as told by Jeffrey of Monmouth, or by Sir Thomas 
Malory. Whatever may have been the deeds of the 
real Arthur, if Arthur ever really lived, they exhibit 
scarcely a single feature in common with the fortunes 
and exploits of the lord of the Round Table, and the 
illustrious knights who went in search of the Holy Grail. 
The historical character of the legend of King Arthur 
must, even by those who accept it, be taken with a 
qualification. If Lappenberg, in his chivalrous ^eg^^. 
defence of the story, myth, or fiction (which- 2Stor«f 
ever it be), can argue that the rapid spread of KtngArthur. 
Jeffrey's work over great part of Europe proves that the 
belief in the hero of it was deeply rooted, 1 it may be 

1 England under the Anglo-Saxon Kings (translated by Benjamin 
Thorpe), i. 102. 

B 



2 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

answered that the same profound faith alone explains the 
wide circulation of the stories of Valentine and Orson or 
Jack the Griant-killer. If the same historian can even infer 
the historical existence of Arthur from the many local 
memorials which, throughout the whole of the Christian 
part of Europe, are made to bear his name, it may be 
urged that the same method will prove the existence of 
Aineias, or Odysseus, or Achilleus, whose relics or sepul- 
chres are thickly strewn along the shores of the Medi- 
terranean ; and that the story of Aineias, in particular, 
was attested beyond all possibility of dispute, even in 
the days of Cato, by the relics of the marvellous sow kept 
in pickle at Lavinium. 1 If, again, Lappenberg lays stress 
on the more measured veneration of the Welsh poets, 
who esteem his general Greraint more highly than the 
king himself, and even relate that the latter, far from 
being always victorious, surrendered Hampshire and 
Somersetshire to the Saxons, this plea for the existence 
of the great Celtic hero has as much and as little value 
as the argument which would infer the historical cha- 
racter of the Odyssey from the defeats or injuries sus- 
tained by Odysseus at the hands of Kykloples or Laistry- 
gonians, of Skylla or Charybdis, and from the more 
straightforward and honest bearing of Telemachos or 
Eumaios, who certainly do not fight with poisoned 
arrows, or boast of stabbing men behind their back. If 
Lappenberg seeks to impart a faint historical hue to the 
expedition of Arthur against the Koman emperor, on the 
ground that a real expedition was undertaken in the year 
468 on the demand of Anthemius by the British general, 
Eiothamus, the device is neither better nor worse than 
that of the historian who should claim as fact the expe- 
dition of Herakles against the Eastern tyranny of Ilion, 
on the ground that there was at a later time a real 
victory of the Greeks over the Eastern tyranny of Persia. 

1 Lewis, Credibility of Early Roman History, i. 334. 



Introduction. 3 

If Lappenberg can insist that the discovery of Arthur's 
long-concealed grave is mentioned by credible contempo- 
raries, and excited at the time no suspicion of any reli- 
gions or political deception, it may be answered not only 
that the discoveries of relics rarely rouse such suspicions, 
but that the discovery of forgotten or unknown sepulchres 
is too common an incident to carry much weight either 
in favour of a story or against it. The final argument 
that Henry II., if he wished merely through an artifice 
to convince the Welsh of the death of their national hero, 
' would hardly himself have acted so conspicuous a part 
on the occasion,' may be dismissed partly with the reply 
that we are perhaps scarcely competent to pronounce on 
his motives, and in part with the retort that some por- 
tions of the story even of Henry II. pass into the cloud- 
land of mythology, and that the maze of Woodstock 
bears too suspicious a likeness to the labyrinth of Daidalos 
to allow any but the most credulous to receive without 
misgiving the tale of Queen Eleanor's vengeance against 
Fair Eosamond. In all this ingenious or desperate 
pleading Lappenberg is in truth defending a breach 
which was long ago surrendered as untenable by William 
of Malmesbury. If we choose to say with him that ' poem 
and tradition bear witness to the spirit, and his ashes and 
the gravestone to the life and name of Arthur,' how much 
more may it be said that the discovery of the books 
written by the sacred hands of Numa bear witness to the 
existence of the great Eoman representative of Drakon, 
or Zaleukos, or Lykourgos ? There is, indeed, but one 
way of escape out of this vicious circle, and this rather 
apparent than real. When we have a story in which 
gods and goddesses mingle visibly among men, in which 
the great heroes are invulnerable except in one part of 
their bodies, in which the leaders are sons of the Heaven, 
or the Dawn, or the Morning, it may seem possible to get 
at the historical evidence by cutting away all the mar- 

B 2 



4 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

vellous features, and accepting the remaining incidents 
as fact. It is the old cheat which Euemeros practised on 
himself, and which his followers have diligently applied 
in all ages ; and, like Milton, Lappenberg qnietly sur- 
renders himself to the delusion. ' Faith in the existence 
of this Christian, Celtic Hector,' he asserts, ' cannot be 
shaken by short-sighted doubt; though much must be 
yet done for British story, to render the sense latent in the 
poems of inspired bards, which have in many cases 
reached us only in spiritless paraphrases, into the sober 
language of historical criticism.' In other words, it will 
be no easy task to achieve for the great Celtic legend 
that which Thucydides, much to his own satisfaction, 
accomplished for the story of the Trojan war. But the 
meagre skeleton to which Thucydides reduces the myth 
of Ilion is not the story as told by the poets of the Iliad 
or the Odyssey, or by the lyric and tragic poets of Hellas, 
most of whom lived nearer to the times in which the 
incidents are supposed to have taken place than the great 
historian. From his narrative, which is unquestionably 
conveyed in the 6 sober language of historical criticism,' 
all the old familiar features of the legend have vanished 
utterly away. We see neither Helen with her griefs and 
woes, nor Memnon, nor Sarpedon ; neither Eos, nor Zeus, 
nor Athene, nor Aphrodite. We have but a ghastly caput 
mortuum of bare incidents, of which, in Mr. Grrote's words, 
we can but say that as the possibility of such events can- 
not be denied, so neither can the reality be affirmed. 

No other judgment can be given of any historical 
residuum extracted from any of the versions into which 
supposed the story of Arthur has passed. No other judg- 

liistorical ' . ,, , , , 

residuum in mem: was given practically seven hundred years 
SSSir. °" ago by William of Malmesbury, when he speaks 
of the many fables told about him by the Britons, even 
in his own day. William, it is true, mentions Arthur 
as a man who deserved to be celebrated, not by idle fiction, 



Introduction. 5 

but by genuine history ; but be has no other mode of 
constructing or reconstructing this history than that 
which had been applied by Euemeros before him or Dr. 
Lappenberg after him. If he hesitates to believe other 
parts of the narrative, he can readily believe that c at the 
siege of Mount Badon, Arthur, trusting in an image of 
the Virgin, engaged nine hundred of the enemy, single 
handed, and turned them to flight with fearful slaughter.' 
The Virgin's image, it may be safely said, rendered this 
incident credible to William, who would have rejected with 
contempt the notion that Grettir, in the Icelandic Saga 
which bears his name, should, without aid from any other, 
slay eighty men who attack him while he is asleep. In 
striking contrast with the special pleading of Lappenberg 
is the testimony of Lingard, who has no hesitation in 
asserting that, ' if we divest his memory of the fictitious 
glory which has been thrown round it by the imagination 
of the bards and minstrels, he will sink into equal ob- 
scurity with his fellows. We know neither the period 
when he lived, nor the district over which he reigned. 
He is said to have fought and to have gained twelve 
battles. In most of these, from the names of the places, 
he seems to have been opposed to the Angles in Lincoln- 
shire, — from the last, at Mount Badon, to the Saxons 
under Cerdic or Cynric. This, whether it was fought 
under Arthur or not, was a splendid and useful victory, 
which for forty years checked the advances of the 
strangers. Perhaps, when the reader has been told that 
Arthur was a British chieftain, that he fought many 
battles, that he was murdered by his nephew, and was 
buried at Grlastonbury, where his remains were discovered 
in the reign of Henry II., he will have learned all that 
can be ascertained at the present day of that celebrated 
warrior.' 1 

1 History of England, i. 72. Ed. 4. Mr. Freeman, having insisted on the 
totally different character of the story of the English conquest as told by 



6 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

He can scarcely be said to know so much. In the case 
of a chieftain, with whose life mythology, by universal con- 
victories of sent, has been busy, the twelve victories which 
HeraMes. he wins provoke comparison with the twelve 
labours which Herakles brought to a successful end, while 
the chronology which marks the result of the battle 
of Mount Badon is as little to be trusted as any other 
part of the legend. The annals of the iEscingas of Kent 
are constructed on an eight times recurring cycle of 
eight years ; and Lappenberg, who upholds the historical 
character of King Arthur, traces this number through 
every stage in the career of the English conquerors. 1 
The remaining incidents, which Dr. Lingard is content 
that the reader should believe, if he likes to do so, are, of 
course, perfectly possible ; but if our knowledge of them 
be derived solely from the legendary narratives of his ex- 
ploits, it is worth neither more nor less than the chrono- 
logy of the events which took place in the House that Jack 
built. We may learn the truth of these facts, if they be 
facts, from other sources, as we learn from Eginhard, 
that Hruodland (Eoland), the prefect of the British 
march, fell at Eoncesvalles. From the legend we learn 
nothing. 

The ground is at once in a great measure cleared before 

the English Chronicles and by Jeffrey of Monmouth, has not thought it 
worth while to take any notice of the Arthur legend. 

1 The battle of C.rayford is fought eight years after the landing of the 
Teutonic invaders ; eight years later Hengest won the battle of Wippedes- 
fieot. The next eighth year is marked by another -victory. Twice eight 
years after this battle, or in the fortieth year after his arrival, Hengest 
dies. His successor, Eric, reigns three times eight years ; and so onwards 
to iEthelberht, who reigns six times eight years, and his successors Eadbald 
and Earconberht, who each reign three times eight years. — Lappenberg, 
England under the Anglo-Saxon Kings, i. 75. 

The artificial chronology of the early Eoman kings is far more elabo- 
rated. That of the Assyrians ranges over a wider field, and is more cum- 
brous and less ingenious. See the Edinburgh Review, January 1867, No. 
255, fol. 128-130. 



Introduction. 7 

us. The question of the historical residuum contained in 
the stories at the head of which may be placed origin of the 

Arthur ro- 

the myth of Arthur loses all importance and all mance. 
interest. The question even of the times in which they 
have taken shape becomes comparatively insignificant. 
But the stories themselves still remain ; and we are 
driven to ask — What are they, and whence come the ma- 
terials which have been wrought into these shapes? and 
the question must be asked till it receives an answer. If, 
then, in these stories we find incidents which seem to be 
the same — if they occur in the same or nearly the same se- 
quence — if they are astonishing or improbable in character, 
or even impossible — if again, we find incidents or 
sequences precisely similar in the popular stories or the 
epical literature of other ages and countries — is it possible 
to avoid entering on the task of comparison, in the hope 
of reaching a definite source for narratives which, amidst 
so many variations, still exhibit so much likeness ? This 
course is justified, apart from all considerations of com- 
parative philology. In identity or resemblance of names 
we have unquestionably the strongest evidence for the 
identity or affinity of legends which profess to relate 
different events, or to belong to different countries ; but 
it is obvious that, if we have half-a-dozen tales which re- 
peat the same set of extraordinary incidents in the same 
order, we must regard them all as versions of a single 
story, even though two or three may possess no names in 
common, or though the difference extend to all. The 
original story thus reached may, of course, have an his- 
torical foundation; but probably long before we have 
reached this stage of the inquiry, we shall see on all sides 
evidence which will drive us more and more to the con- 
clusion that the history is that of Cloudland. 

My present task, therefore, is confined wholly to the 
matter of the stories contained in this volume. That some 
of the men who are named in them may have lived, or that 



8 Popular Romcmces of the Middle Ages. 

some of the events which are related in them may have 
happened, I do not in any way deny. The Persian Cyrus 
Limits of the * s unquestionably historical; the whole story 
inquiry. f ^is "b^th and childhood is unquestionably un- 
historical. But when we find that this story is repeated in 
the history of Eomulus and Kemus, of Oidipous, Perseus, 
and Telephos, of Chandragupta and many more, the con- 
clusion follows that, so far as these stories are concerned, 
they are all the same ; and while I leave altogether on 
one side the possible historical reality of any or all of 
these personages, I am bound to ask again, how this story 
came into being. 

To a certain extent I have answered this question 
already ; and an examination of the mediaeval romances of 
Growth of Europe will, I think, tend greatly to strengthen 
dition? 1 " the position which I have felt no hesitation in 
laying down, that together with the whole genuine 
epical literature of the Aryan race, that is, with all the 
poems which are strictly of popular growth, they relate a 
story which has its origin in the phenomena of the natu- 
ral world and the course of the day and the year. 1 I 
welcome with pleasure the vast amount of evidence, ex- 
tending beyond the bounds of the Aryan race, over the 
whole area of human life, which has been gathered by 
Mr. Tylor in his learned and valuable work on Primitive 
Culture, and which, I venture to think, renders it impos- 
sible to maintain any other conclusion than that which I 
had reached already. 

In speaking of the Hellenic mythology, Mr. Gladstone 
asserted that man may embellish, but that he can not 
Tnesourceof create, the inference being that as the Hellenic 
fancy. tribes had not created their mythology, it must 

have its roots in an original revelation from which it was 
a degradation and a depravation. The reasons which 

1 Mythology of the Aryan Nations, i. vi. 



Introduction. 9 

render such a theory untenable have been already given. 1 
Mr. Tylor, fully sharing Mr. Gladstone's scepticism with 
regard to the inventive power of the mind of man, and 
holding that ' among those opinions which are produced 
by a little knowledge, to be dispelled by a little more, is 
the belief in an almost boundless creative power of the 
human imagination,' asserts that ' the superficial student, 
mazed in a crowd of seemingly wild and lawless fancies, 
which he thinks to have no reason in nature nor pattern 
in this material world, at first concludes them to be new 
births from the imagination of the poet, the tale-teller and 
the seer. But little by little, in what seemed the most 
spontaneous fiction, a more comprehensive study of the 
sources of poetry and romance begins to disclose a cause 
for each fancy, an education that has led up to each 
train of thought, a store of inherited materials from out 
of which each province of the poet's land has been shaped 
and built over and peopled. Backward from our own 
times, the course of mental history may be traced through 
the changes wrought by modern schools of thought and 
fancy, upon an intellectual inheritance handed down to 
them from earlier generations. And through remote 
periods, as we recede more nearly toward primitive con- 
ditions of our race, the threads which connect new 
thought with old do not always vanish from our sight. 
It is in large measure possible to follow them as clues 
leading back to that actual experience of nature and life, 
which is the ultimate source of human fancy.' 2 

Mr. Tylor has, accordingly, brought together a vast 
number of myths from existing savage tribes, whose ' clear 
and fresh mythic conceptions may serve as a Myths of 
basis in studying the nature-myths of the world tribes. 
at large ; ' 3 and his classification of these myths is based 
distinctly on a judgment of 'the characteristics of the 

1 Aryan Mythology, Book I. cli. i. 2 Primitive Culture, i. 248. 

3 lb. i. 331. 



io Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

episodes themselves as to the ideas which suggested them.' 11 
His conclusion is that the evidence so gathered coun- 
tenances ' a strong opinion as to the historical develop- 
ment of legends which describe in personal shape the life 
of nature.' 2 

In the road to which we are thus brought, we have to 
a certain extent the sure guidance of etymology. All is 
Btymoiooi. c l ear so l° n g as we deal w ^ n legends such as 
tfon e s X of lana " ^ na ^ °f Endymion, whose name denotes simply 
myths. thg plunging sun, and which represents him as the 

child of Protogeneia, the early dawn, and of Aethlios, the 
sun who struggles through the clouds or against the dark- 
ness, and as the husband of Selene, the moon, or of Aste- 
rodia, who wanders among the stars with her fifty children 
whose forms are seen in the star-lit heavens. There is no 
room for doubt, while we have before us such a myth as 
that of Prokris, whose name carries us to the Sanscrit root 
which furnished a name for the dew — whose mother Herse 
is dew even to the Greek, and who is unwittingly smitten by 
the spear of Kephalos, the head of the sun, as the solar rays 
kill or drink up the dew drops. We can have no mis- 
givings lest we be on the wrong path, as we read how Sar- 
pedon, the light which creeps along the sky, came from 
Lykia, the land of light, with his friend Grlaukos the 
shining one ; how he was slain far away in the West, and 
how Thanatos and Hypnos, Sleep and Death, bore him 
homewards through the silent hours of night, and laid him 
on his threshold by the banks of Xanthos, the golden river, 
as the first streak of dawn shot along the blue fields of 
heaven. We can move with confidence, as we hear how 
Persephone, the daughter of the Earth-Mother or the 
Dawn-mother, was stolen away by Hades Polydegmon, 
the King of the unseen land which swallows all living 
things; how Helios, the Sun, saw her borne away, and 
Hekate, the Moon, heard her cry ; how while she lay in 
1 Primitive Culture, i. 309. * lb. i. 331. 



Introduction. 1 1 

the dark land beneath the earth, the flowers refused to 

bloom, the grass would not grow, and the trees would not 

put forth leaves or fruits ; and how the heavens were glad 

and the earth laughed when the fair maiden was brought 

back by Hermes, the lord of the moving air, to the 

Mourning Mother at Eleusis, the trysting-place. 

Why should we move with less confidence, or be less sure 

of our ground when we come to the myth of the Teutonic 

Iduna, of whom the same story is told, how Parallelisms 

Wuotan and all the iEsir mourn when she is jn the inci- 
dents of my- 

stolen away; how the trees shed frozen tears, thical tales - 
and the sun withdraws his face, until Loki brings her 
back in the form of a quail ? * Why should we feel any 
misgiving when we have to handle stories in which all 
things are held in a dreamless sleep, while a beautiful 
maiden slumbers either within a fortress of ice, or walls 
of flame, or an impenetrable hedge of briars ? When 
Iduna and Persephone are brought back, the whole world 
rejoices. When Dornroschen awakes from her slumber 
at the kiss of the brave knight who has found his way to 
her chamber, the scullion boy receives the blow which 
the cook had raised his hand to inflict a hundred years 
ago, and the maid goes on with the process of basting the 
meat, in which she had been interrupted when the thorn 
pierced the hand of the Eose Maiden. It is but the 
familiar form which the myth is sure to receive at the 
hands of the common folk ; but the transformation makes 
our task a simpler one for thousands of popular tales, 

1 Bunsen asserts naturally, that this myth is an exact counterpart of the 
earliest myth of Herakles, who falls into the sleep of winter, and lies stiff 
and stark till Iolaos wakes him by holding a quail to his nose." — God in 
History, ii. 488. — In Hellenic mythology, Delos, the brilliant birthplace of 
Phoibos, is also Ortygia, the land of the quail, the bird of morning. Max 
Miiller, Lectures on Language, Second Series, 506. — The German wachtel 
may mean, as some hold, the quacking bird ; but it is not impossible that 
the equivocation between quacking and waking may have determined the 
choice of this bird in the German myth. 



12 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

and we see at once that we have only Persephone or 
Idnna in another form when, in the story of the Dwarfs, 
the maiden, having eaten a golden apple, 1 sinks a hundred 
fathoms in the earth, where the prince (the same, of 
course, who rescues Dornroschen) finds her with the nine- 
headed dragon resting on her lap ; or, again, as we read 
of the House in the Wood in which lies a princess seem- 
ingly dead, and how, when presently the sides crack and 
the beams groan as if riven from their fastenings, the 
stairs fall down, and the whole roof gives way, she 
awakens from her death-like trance to find herself in 
a splendid palace, and in floods of dazzling sunlight. 
What have we here but the sudden overthrow of the 
wintry powers, when the maiden finds herself on the 
green couch of the life-giving mother? We may trace 
the same idea through the story of the Nix of the Mill 
Pond, 2 of Jungfrau Maleen, 3 of the Ill-tempered Princess 
in the Spanish Patrafia, in the Hindu tale of Surya Bai, 
the Sun-maiden, 4 of Holda and of Frau Berchta, as well 
as, again, in the myth of Demeter and Iasion, and of the 
Latin Ceres and Saturnus. 5 

In some of these stories we have the guidance of 
etymology ; perhaps we may be said to have them in 
illustrations manv ? if names which tell their own tale are to 
inTu^hthe ^ e t a ken into account. But from this point of 
tea^sfate 110 * v * ew an etymological character may possibly be 
each other, traced between the greater number of the 
tales which form the vast mythical inheritance of the 
nations. There remain many, however, between which 
no such links can be found. There is no etymological 

1 This golden apple or pomegranate, which is eaten or tasted by Perse- 
phone just before she leaves Hades, answers to the narkissos, or stupifying 
plant, which the Maiden (Kore) takes before she is stolen away. For the 
signification of the pomegranate, see Aryan Mythology, ii. 298. 

2 Grimm, Household Stories. 8 lb. 

4 Frere, Deccan Tales. 6 Aryan Mythology, ii. 306-8. 



Introduction. 1 3 

connexion between the Hindu story of Punchkin l and 
the Teutonic tale of the Giant who had no heart in his 
body ; 2 yet it is impossible not to see that the death of 
the one, both in the mode of its infliction and in the 
whole train of incidents which led to it, is the precise 
counterpart of the catastrophe which overtakes the other. 3 
The names Sisyphos and Ixion may explain themselves, 
although in the case of the latter this has been disputed ; 
but apart from this can it be questioned that wealth and 
wisdom and a terrible punishment are the characteristics 
of Sisyphos, Ixion, and Tantalos, and that the stone 
which Sisyphos heaves to the summit of the hill, only to 
see it roll down again, is but the blazing four-spoked 
wheel on which the body of Ixion is stretched as on a 
rack at noonday ? Can it be doubted ' that the presump- 
tion which marks these three mythical beings brings on 
Tantalos a penalty precisely similar in character, though 
not in outward form ? Could the effects of drought be 
more vividly described than by the myth of the Sun, who 
scorches the fruits which he has quickened into life, as he 
puts his face down close to the earth, or makes the water 
flee away as he stoops to quench his thirst ? We may 
take the Ottawa tale of Iosco, which Mr. Tylor regards 
as ' evidently founded on a myth of Day and Night.' 
6 Iosco seems to be Ioskeha, the White One, whose contest 
with his brother Tawiscara, the Dark One, is an early and 
most genuine Huron nature-myth of Day and Night.' 4 
It is scarcely necessary to say that the story would suffice 
to determine their character, even if the names did not, as 
they seem to do, explain themselves. But how abundant a 
spring is here touched by the comparative mythologist ! 
The counterparts of these Ottawa deities are found in the 
Vedic Asvins, or twin horses or horsemen ; sometimes 
brothers, sometimes sisters, sometimes friends or enemies, 

1 Frere, Deccan Tales. 2 G-rimm, Household Stories. 

3 Aryan Mythology, i. 135-142. 4 Primitive Culture, i. 314. 



14 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

sometimes both brilliant, sometimes, as in the Ottawa 
story, one light and one dark. 'The twin pair adopt 
various forms,' says the Vedic poet : ' one of them shines 
brightly, the other is black ; twin sisters are they, the 
one black, the other white.' l The rivalry, here seen in 
germ, becomes more prominent in the myth of the Hel- 
lenic Dioskouroi, and reaches its climax in the feuds of 
Theban Eteokles and Polyneikes. But whether as friends 
or as foes, sometimes as both in succession, whether re- 
garded as the two Dawns (Ushasau), or the two Kudras 
(Kudrau), the morning and evening breezes, or as Heaven 
and Earth (Varuna and Mitra), or as the opposing powers 
of Light and Darkness, we find the idea of these correla- 
tive deities running through the myths of Eros and 
Anteros, of Phaethon and Helios, of Eomulus and Eemus, 
of Herakles and Iphikles, Pelias and Neleus, Eury- 
sthenes and Prokles, Grlaukos and Sarpedon, Peirithoos 
and Theseus, Achilleus and Patroklos, of Grettir and II- 
lugi in the Icelandic Saga, of Prometheus and Epime- 
theus, of Kama and Luxman, of Soma and Surya, of 
Krishna and Arjuna, of Danaos and Aigyptos, Amphion 
and Zethos, of Phoibos and Artemis, and many more of 
the so-called classical deities of India, Greece, or Europe, 
who reappear under more familiar forms in the common 
stories of the people as the Two Brothers, the Two King's 
Children, the Two Sisters, or the Two Wanderers. 2 

Enough has been said to show that identity of idea, 
and similarity in a marked train of incidents, are suffi- 
ciassifica- cient evidence that anv given stories belong to 

tionsofpo- _ 

puiar stories, the same stock. The conclusion is one which is, 
of course, quite independent of the further inquiry 
whether the stories stand to each other as brother and 
sister, or father and child, or as more distant kinsfolk 
who have grown to manhood without having ever seen 
each other, or known each of the other's existence. 

1 Aryan Mythology, i. 391. 2 Grimm, Household Stories. 



Introduction. 1 5 

The likeness may be the result of direct borrowing or 
importation, or it may be caused by independent growth, 
as of plants from seeds which once came from a single 
tree ; but, whatever be the cause, the likeness is still 
there, and according to these points of likeness these 
stories may be grouped and classified. 

Of the stories contained in this volume it must be said 
that such resemblances are found not only in details but 
in their whole structure. It is quite possible Testsforthe 
that myths may fasten upon some portion of the Jythicaieie- 
life of really historical men, generally upon their jjjJJJJ? ^ a _ p °- 
early or their last days. If we take the story of dition - 
Cyrus as a whole, we find that there are certain parts 
which will not yield to the tests employed for the de- 
tection of mythical elements. The reason is obvious. 
We approach here the region of actual fact. But those 
parts which do yield to these tests are none the less 
mythical ; and in such parts the story of Arthur, for in- 
stance, must still be regarded as mythical, even if it could 
be proved that other portions possess a genuine historical 
character. Such portions, if found at all, will assuredly 
be few and far between ; and it may be safely said of the 
whole narrative, that its general outlines and its special 
features may be traced not only in other mediseval 
romances, but in the traditions of almost every Aryan 
tribe. Nor can it be maintained that these resemblances 
are such as may be traced at the will of any who choose 
to find them in any two or more of modern novels, if 
these novels profess to relate incidents belonging to real 
life. 1 The incidents which mark the story of King 

1 It would be impossible to explain Sir Walter Scott's story of the 
Antiquary or his Legend of Montrose as nature-myths. As a picture of 
the times of which it professes to treat Ivanhoe may be worthless ; but the 
words and acts of Prince John and his followers, of Cedric and the Tem- 
plar, of De Bracy and Front-de-Bceuf, may be the words and acts of real 
men. It is otherwise when we come to the exploits of Locksley at the 
tournament, for here Scott has chosen to insert a bit of popular legend 



1 6 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Arthur are confessedly extraordinary, or miraculous, or 
impossible ; and it is the recurrence of precisely these 
features either in different portions of the same story, or 
in other legends, which both shows how each romance has 
been brought into shape and determines its affinity with 
other versions of the same tale. 

In the form which the Arthur myth had assumed in 
the time of Jeffrey of Monmouth, we are confronted at 
Birth and the outset with a counterpart to the story of 
Arthur. Alkmene and Amphitryon in the device by which 
Uther Pendragon gains access to Igerne, the wife of 
(xorlois. The incidents which follow the birth of her 
child Arthur carry us to the tales which tell us of the 
birth and early years of the Persian Cyrus, the Latin 
Eomulus, or the Theban Oidipous. The reasons which 
compel us to banish the Arthur legend from the region 
of history into the circle of myth would justify us 
in comparing the golden robe in which the new-born 
Arthur is wrapped with the golden robe in which Cyrus 
is arrayed, each as the child of a king, and both with the 
fair white raiment which the nymphs placed round the 
newly-born Phoibos, when they washed him with pure 
water in the morning land of Delos. All these heroes 
are made known by doing something which others cannot 
do ; but the mode in which Arthur is revealed is identical 
with that in which Sigmund is made known in the 
Volsung tale. In the Arthur story the sword is firmly 
fixed in an iron anvil ; in the Volsung legend it is thrust 
into the roof-tree by the one-eyed stranger who appears 
with a slouched hat and a spotted cloak. 1 If in the one 

belonging to the story of Eobin Hood or William of Cloudslee and Adam 
Bell ; and the affinity of these stories with the myth of Tell will scarcely 
be disputed. — Aryan Mythology, ii. 99. 

1 This is the heaven-god Odin or Woden himself, 'an old man, wrapped 
in his wide cloak, and clouding his face with his wide hat, " os pileo ne 
cultu proderetur obnubens,' as Saso Grammaticus has it. Odin is one- 



Introduction. 1 7 

case we have the inscription that he who can pnll the 
sword out of the stone and anvil is rightwise-born King of 
England ; in the other the one-eyed old man says, ' Whoso 
draweth this sword from this stock shall have the same as 
a gift from me, and shall find in good sooth that never 
bare he better sword in hand than is this.' 1 If the 
weapon yields to Arthur's touch although all others strive 
in vain to stir it, so Sigmund when he sets hand to the 
sword Grram ' pulls it from the stock, even as if it lay 
loose before him, though it would in no wise come away 
howsoever others tugged at it.' It may certainly be 
maintained that the Arthur version is a direct copy of the 
Sigmund myth ; but few will assert that the latter was 
directly suggested by the myth of Theseus, who draws 
from beneath the great stone the sword of his father Aigeus, 
the sword with which Perseus had slain the mortal Grorgon. 
This weapon reappears necessarily in the myths of all 
lands. Itis the Morglay which Bevis wields, the Du- 
randal which flashes like the sun in the hands of Eoland. 
When Arthur draws it from its sheath, it gleams on the 
eyes of his enemies like the blaze of thirty torches (p. 84); 
when Achilleus holds it up, the splendour leaps up to 
heaven like the lightning. 

The incidents relating to the daughter of Earl Sanam 

eyed ; lie desired to drink from Mirair's well, but he had to leave there one 
of his eyes in pledge, as it is said in the Voluspa — 

"All know I, Odin, 
Where thou hidest thine eye 
In Mimir's famous well." 

' We need hardly seek this wonder in Mimir's well of wisdom, for any pool 
will show the lost eye of Odin, to him who gazes at the sun reflected in its 
waters, when the other eye of heaven, the real sun, stands high at noon.' — 
Tylor, Primitive Culture, i. 317. 

So Ushas the Dawn, is spoken of in the Vedic hymn as bringing the eye 
of the god. So too the Kyklops, the storm-cloud through which the sun 
glares, is a being with one eye. With these stories may be compared the 
myths which profess to explain why Savitar and Tyr are one-handed. 

1 The Story of the Volsungs and Nitlungs, Morris, p. 7. 

C 



8 Poptilar Romances of the Middle Ages. 



and the wife of the King of Orkney (p. 85) are cardinal 
The loves of P om ts m the myth of Arthur. As in the Theban 
KingArthur. s tory, the ruin of the hero or of his kingdom must 
be brought about by his own son or descendants; and 
Mordred and the wife of the King of Orkney stand to 
Arthur in the relation of Polyneikes and Iokaste to 
Oidipous. The Queen of Orkney is Arthur's sister, the 
daughter of Igerne, though he knows it not — as Oidipous 
unwittingly becomes the husband of his mother, the 
widow of King Laios. It is the Sun-god wedding the 
dawn-maiden, who is the daughter of the Darkness or 
Night, or may have been his bride. But in the Arthur 
version there is a further point on which stress must be 
laid. The two incidents here related clash altogether with 
that ideal of spotless purity and perfect constancy to which 
modern poetry has especially delighted to raise the lord of 
the peerless fellowship of the Eound Table. The Arthur 
who is the husband of Gruenevere may resemble the 
Herakles of the apologue of Prodikos, although the story 
scarcely warrants the inference ; but the Arthur of earlier 
days falls far below the standard of Lancelot. He dallies 
with the Queen of Orkney, though she comes to his court 
with her four sons, as he dallies with the daughter of Earl 
Sanam, for the mere attraction of her beauty. In neither 
case has he any misgivings of conscience. If his relations 
with the mother of Mordred cause him sadness, this sad- 
ness is not awakened until he has dreams which forebode 
the ruin to be one day wrought. But if Arthur really 
belong to the same heroic company with Perseus and 
Theseus, with Minos and Sigurd and Herakles, and these 
again to the more exalted society of Indra, or Agni, or 
Phoibos, or Krishna, this sensuous characteristic is pre- 
cisely that which we should first look for. All these are 
and must be lovers of the maidens, the fiery sun greeting 
the dawn, the dew, the moon, or the clouds. Thus Minos 
is the lover of Diktynna and of Prokris, the dew, who is 



Introduction. 1 9 

elsewhere the bride of the Sun-god Kephalos, who un- 
wittingly slays her. So the Vedic poet, addressing the 
Sun as the horse, says, 6 After thee is the chariot ; after 
thee, Arvan, the man ; after thee, the cows ; after thee, 
the host of the girls,' who all seek to be wedded to him, and 
who are all wedded at one and the same moment to 
Krishna, who at the same moment visits each in her 
separate mansion.. ' Sixteen thousand and one hundred,' 
says the Vishnu Purana, ' was the number of the maidens ; 
and into so many forms did the son of Madhu multiply 
himself, so that every one of the damsels thought that he 
had wedded her in her single person.' The impossibility of 
the fact as interpreted of human life reveals its exquisite 
truth as a picture of a common sight in the world of nature. 
The maidens wedded to Krishna have been rescued from 
the black giant Naraka. The dew is seen only when the 
darkness is slain; and the same sun is reflected in a 
million dew-drops. 

Nor may we pass over the incident which closes the 
first portion of the Arthur-myth, and which tells us 
that Arthur, on hearing that his destroyer should Arthur and 
be born on May-day, orders that all the children stroyer. 
born on that day shall be brought to him. With these 
Mordred is placed in a ship which is wrecked, and, as we 
may suppose, Mordred is the only one saved. So in the 
myth of Krishna, the fears of the tyrant Kamsa are 
awakened by the knowledge that the child who shall sup- 
plant him is his sister's son, as Mordred is the son of 
Arthur's sister; and therefore he orders the slaughter of 
all the children newly born. 

But the sword which Arthur draws out of the stone is 
not the weapon by which his greatest deeds are wrought. 
It is snapped in conflict with the knight Pelli- Arth , 
nore. Precisely the same are the fortunes of the sword - 
sword which Odin thrusts into the roof-tree of the Vol- 

1 Aryan Mythology, ii. 135. 
c 2 



20 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

sungs. The sword of Arthur, whether as Excalibur, or, as 
some versions have it, Mirandoise, is bestowed on hirn 
again by the Lady of the Lake : and the shards of the sword 
Gram, welded together by Eegin the smith, are brought 
by the fair Hjordis to Sigurd her son, who now stands in 
place of his father Sigmund. But the Lady of the Lake 
and the mother of Sigurd are simply counterparts of 
Thetis, the nymph of the sea, who brings from the smith 
Hephaistos the armour which is to serve for her child 
Achilleus in place of that which Hektor had taken from 
\ the body of Patroklos. The parallel is complete, and its 
significance cannot be mistaken. 

The scabbard of this sword is even more marvellous than 
the weapon itself : nay, the sage Merlin tells Arthur that 
The scabbard it is worth ten of the sword, for so long- as he 

of Arthur's . ° 

sword. bears the sheath about him, the sorest blow shall 

not cause him to lose one drop of blood : and thus Arthur 
is placed in the ranks of that large class of heroes who may 
be wounded only in one way, whether as being vulnerable 
in one part only of their body, like Achilleus in the heel, 
or only when they lack some portion of their panoply, or 
only by some particular weapon or instrument, as Sifrit 
can be slain only by Hagene, the thorn, Baldur by the mis- 
tletoe, or Eagnar Lodbrog by the viper. In all these 
stories a way is necessarily provided by which the catas- 
trophe may be brought about. Arthur, invulnerable with 
the scabbard, must somehow or other be deprived of it ; 
and here this is done by means of Arthur's sister, Morgan 
le Fay, to whom he intrusts it for safety, but who, loving 
Sir Accolon more than her husband Sir Uriens, gives it to 
him, making by inchantment a forged scabbard for her 
brother. In a fight which follows the king is well nigh 
overcome ; but though he regains the sheath, yet Morgan 
contrives once more to get it into her hands. Excalibur 
she cannot take from the grasp of Arthur as he sleeps ; but 
1 Aryan Mythology, i. 279. 



Introduction. 2 1 

she hurls the scabbard into a lake, and the death of the 
king at some time or other is insured. 

Nor is it here only, in the Arthur cycle, that this magic 
sword is seen. The whole story is repeated in the episode 
of the good Sir Gralahad. When the day for Re 
filling' up the Perilous Seat has come, a squire of m ^ ths in 

° x 7 J- the Arthur 

tells the king that he has seen a great stone float- st01 'y- 
ing down the river, and a sword fixed in it. Here again we 
have the inscription, by which the weapon is made to say 
that no man shall take it hence but he by whose side it 
ought to hang, and that he shall be the best knight in the 
world. At Arthur's bidding, Lancelot, Grawaine, and 
Percivale, strive to draw it forth, but it will yield only to 
the touch of the pure Sir Gralahad, who in full assurance 
of winning this sword has come with a scabbard only, and 
who says emphatically that it is the same weapon with 
which the Knight Balin avenged the dolorous stroke by 
which Balan smote King Pelles (p. 93). 

The reluctance which Uther's nobles show to receive 
Arthur as their lord, on the ground that he is but a base- 
born boy, brings before us another familiar fea- Arthur and 
ture in this whole class of legends. With per- children. 
haps not a single exception, these Fatal Children, as 
Grrimm calls them, have to spend their early years in 
banishment, or disguise, or humiliation ; and when they 
come to claim their rightful inheritance, they are de- 
spised or jeered at by men of meaner birth, who can never 
be their match in strength and wit. So it is with Cyrus and 
Eomulus, with Oidipous, Perseus, Theseus. The wise 
Odysseus is mocked for his beggarly garb as he stands on 
the day of doom in his own hall ; and this passing shame 
before the great victory is reflected in countless popular 
stories which tell us of the degradation of Boots and Cin- 
derella, a degradation which culminates in the Graelic lay 
of the Grreat Fool, who of course proves to be wiser and 
mightier than all others in the land, and who becomes 



22 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

the husband of Fairfine, who is but Euryphassa or Pasi- 
phae, or any other of the beautiful maidens, whose home is 
in Granzblick or Breidablick or Lykia or Delos. The 
whole story is repeated in the episode of Sir Tor, who is 
brought in by Aries the cowherd. The herdsman, suppo- 
sing him to be his son, complains of his folly — the folly o 
Boots or the Great Fool ; but the wise Merlin, who happens 
to be present, declares that he is the son of King Pellinore. 
The same imputation of weakness is seen again in the de- 
mands made to Arthur for homage to his alleged sove- 
reigns — demands which are in each case refused, and which 
lead to the utter discomfiture whether of King Ryons or 
the Roman Caesar. 

The recurrence of precisely the same idea in the story 
of the poor knight Balin (p. 88), throws light on the me- 
The story of thod in which a crowd of originally independent 

Balin the . & . J r 

poor knight, stories have been sorted and pieced together in 
order to produce the Arthur story of Jeffrey of Monmouth, 
and still more of Sir Thomas Malory. In truth, the myth 
already told of Arthur is now told all over again of Balin, 
and Arthur becomes altogether subordinate to the new pro- 
tagonist. Here, as before, the first incident is that of the 
drawing of a sword : but in this case the weapon is at- 
tached not to an anvil or a stone, but to the side of a maiden, 
who cannot be freed from it save by a true knight, guileless 
of treason. No knights of the court of King Ryons have 
been able to rid her of the grievous burden; and Arthur 
himself is now not more successful. Hence, when Balin, 
the poor-clad knight, who has but just now been let out of 
prison, begs that he may be suffered to try, the maiden tells 
him that it is in vain for him to do so when his betters 
have failed before him. Still he will take no refusal, and 
when he puts his hand on the hilt, the weapon yields as 
easily as those which were drawn forth at the touch of 
Arthur or of Galahad, or as Havelok the Dane bears away 
the huge stone, which others striving with all their might 
cannot stir. 



Introduction. 2 3 

The poor knight goes on his way, bearing the sword 
which is to be his bane, for with it he was to smite King 
Pelles with the Dolorous Stroke, and to hurt to The tw0 
the death his brother Balan, whom he takes to brothers - 
be a stranger. These two brothers in their friendship 
and their antagonism are but reflexions of the Asvins, or 
Dioskouroi, or other twin deities found in the mythology 
of the Aryan and non- Aryan world alike. In the fight 
which they wage for Arthur against the brother of King 
Eyons they do as wondrously as Castor and Pollux for the 
Eomans at the battle of the lake Eegillus. 1 Later on in 
the myth we have the counterpart of the deadly feud 
between Eteokles and Polyneikes in the bloody battle 
between the two brothers Bors and Lionel (p. 192). 

The cap of Hades which enables Perseus to make him- 
self invisible at will appears so often as the Wishing 
Cap or Tarnkappe of Teutonic story, that the ^^^^ 
achievements of the invisible knight, Grarlon, kni s llt - 
who plays a contemptible part in comparison with the 
Argive hero, are at once explained. 

But in many cases incidents of which the meaning is 
easily understood in Hellenic or other traditions survive 
in the Arthur story as mere arbitrary customs, The sacrifice 
for which no reason is assigned. Among these vale's sister. 
is the practice (of which two instances occur), according 
to which a maiden coming to a certain castle must give 
a dishfull of her blood for the healing of the lady who 
lies sick within it. This penalty is inflicted first on the 
maiden who serves as guide to Sir Balin (p. 93), and again 
on the sister of Sir Percivale in the episode of the Holy 
Grail (p. 195). In the latter case, although Percivale and 
his comrades, when they hear what is wanted of the 
maiden, offer a fierce resistance, they are overpowered, 
and assured that, unless they allow the sacrifice to be 
made, they must do battle to the death on the morrow, 

1 Vide sup. p. 13. 



24 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

But Percivale's sister offers herself as a willing victim, 
and dies for loss of the blood which is shed for the saving 
of the lady of the castle. An incident so strange pro- 
vokes a comparison with that more famous sacrifice of an 
Argive maiden in behalf of a fair lady who also was shut 
up within castle walls on the heights of windy Ilion. 
But even the story of Iphigeneia, as related by iEschylos, 
is, like that of Percivale's sister, a mutilated version of 
the older myth. When the Teutonic poet told of Helgi 
Hundingsbana, the tale which furnished Burger with the 
materials for his ballad of Lenore, he added at the end, 
that ' in old time folk trowed that men should be born 
again, though their troth be now deemed but an old 
wife's doting ; and so, as folk say, Helgi and Sigrun were 
born again,' and lived a new life under different names. 
Even so was it with Iphigeneia, for she herself is not only 
Helen but Artemis, and thus her death at the beginning 
of the expedition which is to issue in the rescuing of 
Helen, is but the death of the evening which must fade 
away, like Percivale's gentle sister, before the dawn can 
be set free from her prison-house. 1 

With the death of the two brothers Balin and Balan 
the story returns to the myth of Arthur and his wedding 
The mar- w ^ n Guenevere, whose character approaches 
Inland more nearly to that of the Helen of the Greek 
Guenevere. ly r i c and tragic poets than to the Helen of our 
Iliad and Odyssey. As Helen is with iEschylos the ruin 
of ships, men, and cities, so is Arthur here warned by 
Merlin that Gruenevere is not wholesome for him ; and at 
a later time the knights who are besought to come for- 
ward as champions in her behalf demur to the request on 
the ground that she is a destroyer of good knights (p. 204). 
Their reluctance is fully justified. The real Gruenevere of 
the Arthur story is sensual in her love and merciless in 
her vengeance ; nor is Lancelot the austerely-devoted 

1 Aryan Mythology, ii. 145. Morris, Story of the Volsungs, p. 176. 



Introduction. 25 

knight whose purity is lauded in the pages of Mr. Tenny- 
son. By equivocation or direct falsehood Lancelot con- 
trives to avoid or rebut the charge brought against him 
by Sir Meliagrance : but when in the encounter that 
follows that knight goes down beneath the stroke of Sir 
Lancelot and yields him to his mercy, the latter is sorely 
vexed because he wished to destroy the evidence of his 
guilt ; and when he looks to Gruenevere, she makes a sign, 
which expressed the will of the Eoman ladies in the 
amphitheatre, that the vanquished gladiator should die 
(p. 214). It may, of course, be maintained that the 
incident which furnished grounds for the accusation of 
Meliagrance has been interpolated into the myth; but 
the process is at best perilous which rejects from a legend 
every portion which clashes with our conceptions of the 
character of certain heroes. And assuredly it cannot be 
said that the acts which roused the angry suspicions of 
Meliagrance are consistent with any notion of merely 
Platonic affection (p. 211). Nor is it safe to impute the 
coarseness which characterises Lancelot and Gruenevere, 
Tristram and Isolte, wholly to the coarseness of the me- 
diaeval story-tellers. There is everything to support, and 
little or nothing to invalidate, the conclusion that the 
harsher and more repulsive portraits are the older ; and if 
in the original myth Lancelot had been a man such as 
the Poet Laureate has painted him, the quest of the Sang- 
real could not have been accomplished, for it is only by 
personating Gruenevere that Elaine becomes the mother 
of Sir Gralahad. 

But Gruenevere, like Helen, has her treasures as well as 
the rich dower of beauty ; and her special gift to Arthur 
is the Eound Table. This table Merlin is said to Thedowerof 
have made in token of the roundness of the Gfcenevere. 
world ; but no explanation can be received as adequate 
which is confined merely to its shape and takes no notice 
of its marvellous powers. The quest of the Holy Grail 



26 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

may be to all appearance a narrative wholly distinct from 
that which tells us how the fellowship of the Eound 
Table was formed ; but in all essential characteristics the 
Eound Table and the Sangreal do but reflect each other. 
Around the one Arthur and his knights hold high festival ; 
the other makes its presence felt among the whole com- 
pany of the Eound Table, filling the air with exquisite 
fragrance, and placing before each knight the viands 
which he would most wish to have. They are both, in 
short, different forms of the same vessel of plenty which 
carries us at length to the Egyptian lotos and the Yoni 
of the Hindu. Appearing first as the sign of the Earth, 
the fertilised mother, this symbol assumes the form of a 
ship, as in the Argo or the ship of Isis, and then passes 
through all possible forms of boat-shaped vessels, from 
the great cosmic mixing bowl of the Platonists to the 
Luck of Edenhall. Like the table of the Ethiopians, the 
round table may minister to the wants of the indifferent 
or the bad as well as of the good, 1 while the Holy Grail 
may be seen by none but the purest of the pure : but the 
difference is not greater than that which separates the 
Herakles of Prodikos from the Herakles of the story of 
the daughters of Thestias. or the Herakles who sojourns in 
the house of Omphale. The same idea, which led to the 
establishment of the Hierodouloi at Corinth, was pre- 
sented in another aspect by the Grerairai of Athens, the 
Vestal Virgins of Eome, and the nuns of Eastern and 
Western Christendom. If the mystic vessel of the Sang- 
real acts as a test of righteousness and purity, the same 
power is possessed by the horn which Sir Lamorak sends 
to King Mark (p. 143); and this horn is manifestly the 
horn which Oberon gives to Huon of Bordeaux, and which 
yields the costliest wine in the hands of a good man only. 2 

1 It should, however, be remembered that in Homer the Ethiopians are 
always ' blameless.' If we make this a condition of feasting at their table, 
we have again all the elements of the Christian myth of the Sangreal. 

2 Aryan Mythology, ii. 120. 



Introduction. 2 7 

It is scarcely necessary to say more. We have s mbolg of 
reached that wide region in which the symbols wealth - 
of reproduction produce a wonderful harvest of fancies 
which run riot among images of inexhaustible wealth and 
fertility. The high standard of action, which must be 
attained by those who would see the Holy Grrail, stands, 
when we compare it with the nature of the symbolism 
from which it takes its rise, in precisely the relation borne 
by the original sensuous roots to the words which we em- 
ploy to express the highest spiritual conceptions. 1 Thus 
the story of the Sangreal is but a reproduction of the story 
of the Eound Table : and it is not here only that we shall 
find ourselves going round in the same magic circle. 2 

With his election as king begin the toils and the 
wanderings of Arthur. JSTo sooner is one enemy overcome 
than another assails him from some other quarter. The toils and 
' Alas ! ' he mournfully complains, when he hears of Arthur! 
that the King of Denmark is ravaging his northern lands, 
' never have I had one month's rest since I became king 
of the land' (p. 99). The same doom lies on all or 
almost all the heroes of mediaeval romance ; and the plea 
that this may be explained by the conditions of feudalism 
and the practice of knight-errantry may be taken for 

1 Aryan Mythology, bk. i. ch. ii. 

2 Dr. Craik {History of English Literature, i. 142) cites the opinion of 
the Abbe de la Eue (Essais historiques), ' that the original romances on 
the quest of the Saint G-real are to be considered as forming quite a distinct 
body of fiction from those relating to the Eound Table, and that much mis- 
apprehension has arisen from confounding the two.' If the evidence of 
comparative mythology is to be trusted, the original independence of the 
two myths can scarcely be questioned. 

The -notion of the author of the Introduction to Britannia after the 
Eo'/nans, also cited by Dr. Craik, that greal is ' a Welsh word signifying an 
aggregate of principles, a magazine, ' which passed into the Latinised 
form gradalis,' may be safely dismissed as a hysteron proteron. The opinion 
that the Latin gradalis represents the Greek krater, a goblet or mixing 
bowl, is far more plausible; but the strange connexion of the vessel with 
the Holy Blood seems to justify the conjecture that to this we owe the 
name of the Sang-real. 



28 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

what it is worth. Tristram and Lancelot are pre-emi- 
nently knights errant ; but Havelok, Olger, and Beowulf 
can scarcely be regarded as heroes of chivalry in this 
sense, nor can it well be supposed that all knights errant 
had the adventures and underwent the misfortunes of 
Lancelot and Tristram. Banishment and madness, de- 
gradation and final triumph, are their common portion ; 
and we find these to be the great features in the career of 
a vast number of manifestly mythical heroes. The Teu- 
tonic stories gathered by Grrimm resolve themselves in 
great part into versions of brothers or younger sons who 
go to seek their fortunes, and who all become possessed 
of the same miraculous powers. But whether we look at 
the tales of the common people or those which have 
assumed a more permanent form in epic poetry, we find 
that on all the heroes of whom they speak there lies the 
doom of perpetual pilgrimage. Nor can we fail to see 
whither we are tending when we read in the Gaelic story 
that the spell laid by the Dame of the Fine Green Kirtle 
on the Fair Grruagach is, that where he takes his breakfast 
there he may not take his dinner, and where he takes his 
dinner, there he may not sup, till he finds out in what 
place she may be under the four brown quarters of the 
world. 1 Of course in the end he does win her, and her 
fine green kirtle is found to be a garment endowed with 
the magic properties of the robe which Medeia received 
or inherited from Helios, the sun. In short, there is but 
one being of whom this tale is eternally true, and that 
being is the sun, who can never rest until he joins in the 
evening the beautiful maiden from whom he was parted 
in the morning. The force of the evidence becomes irre- 
sistible as we ascend from the wanderers of folk lore stories 
to the great company of epical heroes, whether it be the 
Icelandic Grrettir, or the Teutonic Helgis, or Sigurd, or 
Siegfried, the Hellenic Perseus, Bellerophon, Theseus, 

1 Aryan Mythology, i. 291. 



Introduction. 29 

Herakles, Odysseus, to the divine persons whose real 
nature is clearly known to those who speak of them ; to 
Dionysos, the wine-god, and to Phoibos, who cannot rest 
in Delos, the morning-land, but who, having wandered far 
away to the west, ever comes back to his bright birth- 
place ;• to Wuotan, who is Wegtam, the pilgrim of the 
road, and to Indra the wonderful, who, like all the rest, 
is a wanderer. 

Nothing can grow without a root, and the most gro- 
tesque fictions are not altogether unreasonable or absurd. 
Thus when in these legends we come across men Ima of 
whose strength increases from nine to twelve solar m y ths - 
o'clock, so that towards noon they become almost irresis- 
tible, while from the moment of noon their power begins 
slowly but steadily to decline, we are at once driven to 
ask whether there be any sense in which these words may 
be strictly true, at least according to the impressions 
made by outward objects on human sense ; and it becomes 
impossible to resist the conclusion that here again we are 
reading of heroes who have had transferred to them the 
properties which belong only to the one-eyed wanderer 
who daily performs his journey through the heavens. 
This power of growth until noon is possessed by Sir 
Grawaine (p. 224), while his adversary, Marhaus, who here 
represents the opponent of the sun-god, waxes bigger and 
bigger at sundown. It is shared also by the Eed Knight 
of the Eed Lawns ; and the knight Prettyhands, who is 
here playing the part of Boots or Dummling, is specially 
warned not to blow the horn which hangs by the castle 
gate until it be noon, for until that hour the Eed Knight's 
strength increases, till, as men say, he has the strength of 
seven men (p. 125). This magical power in Sir Grawaine, 
of which, with one of the many direct contradictions 
exhibited by the legends pieced together to form the 
Arthur story, we are told that Arthur alone was aware, is 
especially manifested in the last desperate struggle with 



30 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Lancelot, which ends in the death of Grawaine. And thus 
we have the clue which leads us through such stories as 
the legend of Ahmed, the Pilgrim of Love, who, like all 
others, is seeking the bright maiden, and whose magic 
horse overthrows all against whom he is borne until the 
noontide hour strikes, when, hurrying away from the 
lists, he swims the Tagus, and buries himself in the 
cavern from which he had been led in the morning. 1 
Finally we reach the myths in which all these stories 
find their explanation ; the myths which tell us of the 
punishments inflicted on "beings indisputably solar, of 
Ixion stretched on the four-spoked wheel which blazes in 
the heavens at noontide, or Sisyphos, who never fails to 
roll his great orb to the summit of the hill, but who 
succeeds in doing this only to see it roll down, or Tan- 
talos, whose glowing face scorches the fruits which he 
longs to taste, and dries up the waters with which he 
yearns to quench his thirst. 

If any doubt yet remained that these otherwise inex- 
plicable characteristics of the Knights of the Eound 
The weird Table or their antagonists are remnants of nature- 
sisters, myth, these would be removed by the transparent 
scene in which three fatal sisters, the Norns, the Parcse, 
the Moirai, the Thriai, the Grraiai, or the Grorgons, are 
brought before us by the stream side in the forest of 
Alroy. 2 The images of the Past, the Present, and the 
Future with its budding hope, cannot be mistaken in the 
three maidens, of whom the eldest wears a circlet of gold on 
hair white with the snows of more than threescore winters, 
while the second has seen thirty years, and the third, 
whose head is crowned with flowers, is but in her fifteenth 
summer. These maidens sit where the roads part, watch- 
ing for errant knights, whom they may teach strange 
adventures. It is enough to say that Uwaine and Mar- 
haus choose the more sober and discreet of the sisters ; 

1 Aryan Mythology, i. 151. 2 lb. ii. 16, &c. 



Introduction. 3 r 

the youngest falls to the share of Grawaine, and by her 
early desertion of him illustrates the truth that the young 
and his hopes, like the fool and his money, are soon 
parted. 

Already, in the Arthur legends, there have been brought 
before us two distinct mythical cycles, the one telling the 
story of Arthur himself, the other of the poor MytMcal 
knight Balin. We now reach a third, in which %£ h e J r in the 
are related the adventures of Lancelot du Lake. ™T^ e : 

I. Arthur; 

This cycle is interwoven with the Arthur myth, g^. B £ ] ™ c l_ 
which is made to serve as a common framework lot - 
for these and for two other cycles which are included with 
them. The main thread in the legend of Lancelot is the 
love which he bears to Gruenevere, and which the queen 
fully returns. This love the mediaeval story-teller has 
evidently sought to exhibit in the fairest light. When 
Morgan le Fay, and three other queens bid him choose 
one of them for his lady love, Lancelot's answer is a stern 
refusal (p. 113); and to the daughter of King Bagde- 
magus, who tells him that he lacks one thing, the love 
of a lady, and warns him of the rumours which are 
busy in connecting his name with that of Gruenevere, 
Lancelot replies that he thinks not ever to be a wedded 
man, but that he wishes only to keep his hands clean 
and his heart pure. It is enough to say that the story 
gives sufficient evidence that the love of Gruenevere and 
Lancelot is not pure, and that if it had been pure, the 
quest of the Holy Grail would never have been accom- 
plished. 

But the narrator leaves, to be taken up hereafter, the 
threads which are to join the Lancelot story with the 
story of Arthur and Tristram. For the present The fourth 

cycle, 

he betakes himself to a fourth cycle of myth, oareth. 
which is concerned with the adventures of Sir Grareth. 
The story of this knight, who is brought into Arthur's 
court unable to walk and leaning on the shoulders of 



32 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

two men, is throughout one of that vast class of solar 
myths which speak of weakness issuing in victory. It is, 
in short, only another version of the story of Boots, or 
Cinderella, of Havelok and Hamlet, of the Grold Child, or 
the Widow's Son. 1 The first thing related of him carries 
us at once to the other tales which tell of great heroes 
whose lower limbs are out of proportion with the rest of 
their bodies. If Grareth seems unable of himself to walk, 
we must remember that Odysseus standing is compara- 
tively insignificant, but that when he sits his presence is 
more dignified than that of Menelaos. So, again, of the 
Icelandic Grrettir, it is said that he is right well ribbed 
about the chest, but few might think he would be so 
small of growth below. They are all, in truth, counter- 
parts of the Shortshanks who figures in the folk lore of 
northern Europe. 2 But the destiny of Grareth, who, 
though the goodliest youth on whom the eyes of Arthur 
have ever rested, yet, like Cyrus or Komulus or Odysseus, 
knows neither his name nor his parentage, is for the 
present the kitchen. Like Halvor in the story of Soria 
Moria Castle, tye must grub among the ashes: like the 
lad who knew not how to shiver, he cannot be placed far 
away from the living embers, which are to reveal his 
future splendour. As he has no birth-name, Sir Kay con- 
temptuously calls him Prettyhands, and bids him go to 
the kitchen and there have fat brose, that at the year's 
end he may be fat as a pork hog. But Grareth has in 
him the ambition which enables Boots to ride up the 
mountain of ice in the story of the Princess on the Glass 
Hill ; and thus he hurries to see any justing of knights 
which may chance to be going on, while, though he 
cannot walk, none could cast bar or stone as he did by 
two yards. The time for action at length comes, when 
a maiden beseeches Arthur to send succour to a lady be- 
sieged in her castle by the Knight of the Eed Lawns (p. 1 18) ; 
1 Aryan Mythology, i. 159. 2 lb. i. 325. 



In trodiiction. 3 3 

but even now he must drink a bitter draught of 
humiliation. When he entreats Arthur that he may be 
sent on this service, the maiden asks indignantly if she is 
to be put off with a kitchen-knave, and hastens away in 
wrath. Sir Kay, who wishes to see how the ash-boy fares, 
speedily receives a stroke which compels him to believe 
that in his case discretion is the better part of valour ; 
and even Lancelot, who ventures to parry lances with 
him, is constrained to own that their quarrel is not so 
great but they may fairly leave off. Nevertheless, the 
revilings of the damsel are not stayed by his first or his 
second achievement. In each case she finds some method 
by which she may explain away his success, until at last 
she too is driven to confess that he deserves all praise, 
since, with all his strength and after so many exploits, 
he could listen to slander without retort. 

This myth is repeated in the episode of the Knight with 
the ill-shapen Coat, the ubiquitous garment of humiliation 
worn by the wanderer who owns the Knapsack, Repetition of 
the Hat, and the Horn in the German story, by Garetnintne 
the Grold Child when he appears before the king Knightoftne 
in the guise of a bear-hunter, and the soldier coat, 
who is seen in the Boots of Buffalo-leather. Here too 
the maiden reviles him (p. 146), and tells him that if he 
will follow her, his skin shall be as well hewn as his coat. 
The answer of the youth is that when he is so hewn, he 
will ask for no plaster wherewith to heal him. When 
soon after this a hundred knights assail him at once, and 
fighting his way through them he seizes his horse which 
the maiden had taken from him in order to insure his 
death, we deal with an incident w T hich recurs in the Saga 
of Grrettir, and shows that we have before us the deeds of 
a Herakles, a Samson, or a Rustem. The inevitable issue 
is that the young knight becomes lord of the castle of 
Pendragon and the husband of the maiden who has re- 
viled him. 



34 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

He is, in short, the successful knight who wins his way, 
when others can do nothing ; and so here we have repeated 
The knights the story already told a thousand times in forms 
and the ' which excite pity, terror, or disgust. Brynhild 
wins. can be rescued from the dragon which encircles 

her only by the peerless hero who can ride through the 
walls of flame; but the many who essay the task are 
scorched to death. So is it in the story of Briar-Rose, 
where the youths who seek to force an entrance through 
the hedge of thorns are unable to release themselves and 
perish miserably. Sometimes the thorny hedge becomes 
a hedge of spears or bayonets, or a wall of ice; and he 
who cannot leap it, meets his death at once. More often 
the penalty of death is inflicted by the executioner who 
has to deal with those who have been warned by the king, 
that if they are not victors in the appointed contest of 
running, leaping, or whatever it be, they must lose their 
heads. This is the burden of the myth of Atalante. In 
the same way here we have a castle, near which on great 
trees hang the bodies of nearly forty knights ; and when 
Prettyhands asks why they have been slain, the answer of 
the damsel Linet is, ' They are the knights who sought to 
deliver my sister from the Knight of the Red Lawns : for 
all who are overcome by him die a shameful death' (p. 125). 
In Prettyhands we see, of course, the conqueror by whom 
not only the Knight of the Red Lawns but all others 
like him are smitten down. If again Brynhild on the 
glistening heath sleeps within a circle of fire, we see 
precisely the same idea in the story of the maiden whom, 
as being the fairest of all women, Morgan le Fay shuts 
up in a tower where she boils in scalding water, until the 
best knight of the world should take her by the hand 
(p. 164). So too, just as the prickly hedge presents no 
barrier to the hero who is destined to rescue Briar-Rose, 
the doors open of their own accord when Lancelot 
approaches ; and the deliverance of the maiden is followed 



In troduciion. 3 5 

by the destruction of the serpent who lurks in the tomb. 
It is but another form of the story of Eapunzel, of the 
Eose of the Alhambra, of Surya Bai, and the Argive 
Danae. 

Xor is this the only mythical incident, rendered familiar 
to us in the legends of many lands, which has been intro- 
duced into this story of Gareth. After the battle The SQake . 
before the Perilous Castle the youth thinks at leaves - 
once to win the lady of his love ; but she tells him that 
though she will never love another, yet he must be 
tested by flood and field till twelve months should have 
passed by, before she can be his wife. The spirit of the 
old myth is so far weakened that means are devised for 
cutting short the ordeal. But he has no sooner met again 
the lady of the Perilous Castle, than he becomes an 
actor in a series of astonishing scenes in which the notion 
lying at the root of the story of the Snake-leaves is ex- 
travagantly exaggerated. In the German tale a prince, 
seeing a snake approach the dead body of his wife, cuts it 
in two, and presently another snake brings in three leaves 
which it places upon the severed portions and restores the 
snake to life. This is only another version of the story which 
is related of Polyidos and Glaukos, and is told again in the 
Deccan tale of Panch Phul Eanee, the Queen of the Five 
Flowers. Here it assumes a coarse form in the hands of 
a tale-teller, to whom the story conveys not a tittle of its 
original meaning. The head of the knight who, approach- 
ing Gareth in the night with a drawn sword, is beheaded 
by him, is made to grow on his body again by means of 
salve which the damsel Linet applies to it. When the 
knight, thus restored to life, again attacks Gareth on the 
following night, the latter not only smites off his head, but 
hews it in pieces. But Linet is not to be thus baffled, 
and the murderer is again made to live. 

A like exaggeration is seen in the powers of the ring 
which the lady of the Perilous Castle gives to Prettyhands. 

j) 2 







6 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 



The owner of the ring of Gyges became invisible or visible 
according to the way in which he handles it; in the 
Thematic Arabian story of the Wonderful Lamp, the hand- 
ring, ling- of the ring brings into sight the demon who 
is its slave. Here the ring has this power, that that which 
is green it will turn to red, red to green, blue to white, and 
so with all other colours, while he who wears it shall lose no 
blood. In other words it will both disguise and guard him 
effectually ; and this is the idea which lies at the root of 
the Gyges myth, in which the ring represents the circular 
emblem of wealth and fertility common to the mythology 
of the whole human race, and pre-eminent in the Arthur 
story both as the Kound Table and the vessel of the 
Sangreal. Under cover of this disguise Grareth does 
wonders at the tournament which King Arthur holds at 
Pentecost ; but when he wishes to go and drink, his dwarf 
persuades him to leave the ring with him lest he should 
lose it while drinking, and thus he is made known as 
appearing in his own yellow colours (p. 132). 

Having brought Grareth to the scene of his glory, the 
story now enters on a fifth cycle of myth, which retraces 
The fifth in the person of Tristram the threads of the tale 
Tristram, which relates the adventures of Lancelot. If 
there be a difference between them, it is that the Tristram 
story is more full of incidents common to all tales, the 
origin and meaning of which cannot be questioned. But 
in their love and their madness, their bravery and their 
sufferings, their triumphs and their punishment, they are 
but shadows each of the other. So close indeed is the 
parallel that Gruenevere herself strikes the equation which 
makes herself and Lancelot, on the one side, the counter- 
parts of Tristram and Isolte on the other. 

By his birth Tristram belongs to the class of heroes 
destined to become great men. He is the child of sorrow, 
The child born in the dark forest in which his mother seeks 
great. her lord, who has been entrapped and shut up in 



Introduction. 3 7 

a dungeon. Like Macduff and Asklepios, Dionysos and 
Sigurd, Tristram is scarcely seen by his mother, who 
before she dies has only time to give him his ill-boding 
name ; but with him as with the Persian Eustem, with 
Adonis, with the Danish Olger and the Teutonic Sceaf 
the son of Scild, the woes of his infancy are but clouds 
which are scattered before the splendour of his manhood. 1 
This story is repeated in the episode of Sir Alisander 
(p. 155), whom King Mark of Cornwall, who is here repre- 
sented in the darkest colours, orders Sir Sadok to slay. 
Like the long series of heroes who are born to be kings, 2 
Alisander is really saved by Sadok who pretends to the 
king that he has drowned the lad. On growing up he 
receives from his mother the blood-stained sark of his mur- 
dered father, and swears to take vengeance on King Mark, 
who on hearing that his intended victim is still alive 
seeks again to slay him by means of Morgan le Fay. But 
no woman can approach him without loving him, and 
Morgan le Fay enables him to overthrow all antagonists, 
until at length he wins the love of Alice the Fair Pilgrim. 
The same tale we find in substance in the romance of 
Havelok the Dane, who is intrusted to Grodard as Ali- 
sander is to Sadok, that he may be got rid of. But 
Grodard, like Harpagos in the story of Cyrus, chooses to do 
the work through the agency of another, and Havelok 
thus falls into the hands of Grrim the Fisherman, who, 
rising at midnight to do Grodard's bidding, is astonished 
at seeing the child's head wrapped in the halo of glory 
which showed the royal destiny of the young Servius 
Tullius, the slave's child, in the Roman myth, and revealed 
to the shepherd Aristhanas the divine parentage of the 
desolate Asklepios. 3 

Tristram, again, is pre-eminently the huntsman, like 

1 Aryan Mythology, ii. 33. 

2 Morris, Earthly Paradise, The Man born to be King. 

3 Aryan Mythology, ii. 35. 



38 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Alpheios in the Ortygian legend, while as a harper 'pas- 
Tristram sing all other harpers that ever lived,' he is the 
and hunter representative not only of Hermes, Orpheus, 
musician. Amphion, Pan, and the Seirens, but of the piper 
of Hameln, of the Erl King, of Sigurd, Glenkundie, and 
Wainamoinen. 1 

1 Aryan Mythology, book ii. ch. v. No apology is needed for placing 
before the reader two versions of the Tristram story. The Tristram of 
the Arthur romance is in all essential features the same as the Tristram 
of Thomas the Rhymer ; but the points of difference, slight though they 
may be between the one tale and the other, are not uninstructive. In both 
Tristram is the child of sorrow ; but in the one he is born while his father 
still lives, in the other the death of the father precedes the birth of the 
child. But the difference is only in seeming. In both the wife is left 
alone and forsaken, like Prokris, or still more, like Koronis {Aryan My- 
thology, ii. 34). The story of the Norwegian merchant-ship, the captain of 
which orders sail to be set in order to beguile Tristram who is on board 
playing at chess with him, points to an incident in the German tale of 
Faithful John (Grimm), and to the version of the myth of Io, generally 
taken to be a piece of euemerism, as given by Herodotos. Tristram, like 
the heroes of all these tales, is the slayer of worms or dragons ; but, the 
narrative which relates Tristram's special exploit is manifestly identical 
with the story related in Grimm's tale of the Two Brothers. The lying 
steward of the Tristram myth is the lying marshal of the other, and the 
mode in which each is convicted is precisely the same. For the connexion 
of this tale with other legends see Aryan Mythology, i. 162 et seq. 

The difference to all appearance most noteworthy between the two stories 
of Tristram is that which relates to the character of King Mark of Cornwall, 
who in the version of Thomas the Rhymer is genial and faithful, while in 
the other he is an embodiment of falsehood and treachery. Such contra- 
dictions, if the story be regarded as in any way a narrative of historical 
facts, would suffice to deprive it of all credibility ; but in the old myths 
the beings whom the sun has to supplant are not always malignant ; and the 
two phases of Mark's character are reproduced in the Ring of the Frithiof 
Saga and the Rinkrank of the popular German tale, (Grimm, Old Bin/c- 
rank). In all these narratives, the good and the bad King Mark, the kindly 
Ring and the hard Rinkrank, each deprive the young and beautiful hero of 
his bride ; in each case the maiden is united with her lover either in life, 
as Penelope with Odysseus, or in death, as Iole with Herakles, or Kleopatra 
with Meleagros. 

Sir Henry Strachey (Morte d' Arthur, xiii.) regards the fact that Mark ap- 
pears in his more general form in the older romance as evidence that the 
later romance-writer found in the king's treachery some sort of palliation 
for what Sir Walter Scott calls the extreme ingratitude and profligacy of 



Introduction. 39 

The time comes when Tristram must do deeds of arms, 
and he alone ventures to encounter Sir Marhaus whom 
the King of Ireland sends to demand tribute The poisoned 
from King Mark of Cornwall. The combat is weapons - 
long and fierce, but at length Marhaus is smitten down 
by Tristram's sword, of which a piece is left sticking in 
his head. This piece is carefully stored away by the 
queen of Ireland, whose palace Marhaus reaches only to 
die there. But Tristram also is sorely wounded by the 
arrows of Marhaus which were poisoned. On this fact it 
would be difficult to lay too great stress. Whatever may 
be said for African savages or even for the Achaians of 
the Greek heroic age, it can never be maintained that 
the employment of poisoned weapons is a fit work for 
Christian chivalry, or that the fact of their being so used 
is credible. But what is to be said if we find this practice 
avowed without shame in the heroic legends of almost all 

the hero. The charge of ingratitude seems but scantily borne out, or rather, 
even according to Malory's story, it has no foundation at all. The truth is, 
that, if we judge the story from the standard of our human morality, we 
shall find profligacy everywhere. Tristram pledges his faith to Isolte in 
Ireland : but when he returns to Cornwall, he and King Mark quarrel not 
for her, but about the wife of the Earl Segwarides (p. 139). Bather it 
may be said that in the relations of Mark with Isolte, Tristram displays a 
singular fidelity ; but the multiplication of theories is really not needed to 
explain variations which are common to the myths of the Aryan nations 
generally. 

Here, as elsewhere, the method which we have employed makes it quite 
unnecessary to enter into controversies which can have interest only on the 
supposition that we are dealing with powers and persons which are in some 
degree historical. Hence we may leave on one side the conclusion of Mr. 
Price (Introduction to Warton's History of English Poetry, 1821), that Sir 
Walter Scott had wholly failed to prove any connexion between this romance 
and the Ehymer of Ercildoune. It might rather be doubted whether 
Thomas the Ehymer was a poet at all, for of the man himself we can 
scarcely be said to know anything, and by Sir Walter Scott's admission the 
name existed at the time as a proper name in the Merse, John Bymour, a 
freeholder of Berwickshire, being among those who did homage to Edward 
I. in 1296, {Tristram, p. 6.) But even if the poet's existence be proved, 
Sir Walter Scott admits further that the romance existed before him ; and 
our present concern is with the materials on which he worked. 



40 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

lands ? Poisoned arrows are used by Herakles, and by him 
bequeathed to Philoktetes, who with one of them inflicts 
the death-wound of Paris. Nay, they do not scruple to 
make use of poison in other forms. The poisoned robe 
of Medeia scorches to death the Corinthian (xlauke and 
her father Kreon ; the blood of Nessos seals the doom of 
Herakles, when he puts on the white robe sent to him by 
Deianeira ; the messenger of Morgan le Fay is burnt to 
coals by the garment which she had been charged to 
lay at the feet of King Arthur. If we absolutely refuse 
to believe in the historical employment of such methods 
in ancient or modern Europe (and we must refuse to be- 
lieve it of our own land in any Christian age), how are the 
legends which speak of this employment to be explained ? 
The negation of their historical character at once supplies 
the solution of the problem by banishing it from the land 
of living men to the regions of mist and snace. The 
poisoned spears are the piercing rays of the sun ; the 
poisoned robes are the fiery clouds which eat out his life 
as he sinks at his journey's end in the west. The parallel 
may be carried still farther. Medeia alone can heal the 
mischief which she works. Oinone alone can save the life 
of Paris when he is smitten with his fatal wound ; and in 
like manner the wound of Tristram can be healed only in 
the land from which the venom came, and in which dwells 
the maiden who shall be the lady of his life-long love. 

But at this point again we are confronted with a cha- 
racteristic which we can scarcely regard as having be- 
Paraiieiisms longed to any Christian Knighthood. We have 
of Arthm^ hs already seen how far Arthur comes up to Mr. 
uhcitS- Tennyson's idea of peerless purity ; and the 
tram. blemish on Arthur's fair fame is seen again not 

only in Lancelot but in Tristram. At the very time when 
Tristram, who, being discovered by the hollow place in his 
sword to be the slayer of Sir Marhaus, is compelled to 
leave the land, tells Isolte that she can never fail to have 
all his devotion, he is really in love with the wife of Sir 



Introduction. 4 1 

Segwarides, who at the last refuses to hold further parley 
with him, because when it was in his power to rescue her 
he failed to do so. In short, it is with Tristram as it is 
with Arthur and Lancelot. There may be from time to 
time words put into the mouths of all three, which attri- 
bute to them a strict and even ascetic severity ; but it 
would be no hard task to bring together a formidable 
group of inconsistencies and contradictions in a legend 
which, like that of Arthur and his Knights, is the result 
of many accretions ; and by all the analogies furnished by 
the popular literature of the world we are driven to the 
conclusion already anticipated that the higher ideal is 
the later conception, and that the coarser form is of the 
very essence of the myth. It is scarcely credible that 
the manifest sensuousness of many scenes in the relations 
of Lancelot with Gruenevere can have been introduced into 
the story by the man who seeks to exhibit their love as 
absolutely Platonic and pure. But even if it be so, the 
fact remains that every one of these three, whose career 
otherwise resembles the career of the great mythical 
heroes of all lands, resembles them also in the multiplicity 
of their loves. Like Arthur and Lancelot, Tristram is 
4>i\o<yuv7]s, and takes his place in the company of Phoibos, 
Theseus, Dionysos, Alpheios, Krishna, Kephalos and a 
host of other gods or heroes. Nay, the very relations 
which exist between Tristram, Isolte, and King Mark are 
precisely reproduced in those which are found between 
Sigurd, Brynhild, and Grunnar in the Volsung tale. In 
Isolte Tristram finds the woman to whom he can give his 
whole heart, while Tristram is the only man who can win 
the love of Isolte, as Sigurd is the only hero who can wake 
the heart of Brynhild. But both are under the same 
doom. The bride is in each case, like Helen, the most 
beautiful of women, as the hero is peerless among men, and 
she must in each case be wooed for another, and Mark of 
Cornwall in the Tristram story takes the place of Grunnar. 
We may trace the parallel even further. The naked sword 



42 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

which Sigurd places between himself and Brynhild, when 
he lies down to sleep by her side, is placed again by Tris- 
tram between himself and Isolte, and is used for the same 
purpose in the German story of the Two Brothers, the 
Norse legend of Big Bird Dan and the Arabian tale of 
Allah-ud-deen. These instances alone suffice to prove not 
only the common origin of these popular stories, but their 
nature, and justify the remark of Dr. Dasent which I have 
quoted elsewhere, and on which I again lay emphatic 
stress, that ' these mythical deep-rooted germs, throwing 
out fresh shoots from age to age in the popular literature 
of the race, are far more convincing proofs of the early 
existence of these traditions than any mere external evi- 
dence.' 1 But we need go no further than the Tristram 
story itself for a plain avowal of the parallelism, in the 
charge given by Isolte to Palamides, that he should go to 
King Arthur's court and tell Guenevere that ' within this 
land there are but four lovers, and these are Sir Lancelot 
of the Lake and Queen Gruenevere, and Sir Tristram of 
Liones and Queen Isolte.' We must go further still. If, 
like Sigurd, Tristram and Lancelot give their love to 
women who are or who must be the brides of others, there 
yet remains in each case one whom each must wed, and as 
Gudrun is but a weaker reflexion of Brynhild (and how 
should she be otherwise, since she was a Niflung, or child of 
the Mist ?), so is Elaine, the mother of Lancelot's child, a 
weakened image of Guenevere, and Isolte of the white 
hands a feeble likeness of Isolte the Fair. 2 So again the 

1 Aryan Mythology, i. 281. 

2 If Guenevere is reflected in Elaine the daughter of King Pelles, as 
Gudrun wears the likeness of Brynhild, so is the story of the daughter of 
King Pelles manifestly reproduced in the exquisite episode of the Fair Maid 
of Astolat, -who also bears the name Elaine, the only difference being that the 
one would be, while the other really is, the mother of a child of Lancelot. 
In either case the spell which lies on the maiden is irresistible, as with 
Isolte the Fair it was impossible to withstand the witchery of Tristram's 
harping. 



Introduction. 43 

enmity between Ghidrun and Brynhild is reproduced in the 
antipathy of the two Isoltes and the ill-concealed dislike 
of G-uenevere for Elaine. If, yet more, Brynhild on learn- 
ing that Sigurd has wedded her in the form of Ghinnar 
declares that she will bring about the death of the hero 
to whom, as knowing no fear, she has yielded her love, so 
Isolte the Fair, on hearing that Tristram has married her 
namesake, warns him that henceforth she is his deadly 
foe. 

If precisely the same impossibilities are attributed to 
the heroes of romance in different ages or lands, the like- 
lihood is that all such tales have a common Phvsical 
origin and a common meaning ; and it is only j^Sf 
necessary here to say that Tristram forms no heroes - 
exception to the heroes, who, resembling him, resemble 
also Herakles or Samson. Like the rest, he is able, 
single-handed, to slay scores or hundreds. It matters not 
how many may assault him, or whether they do so 
secretly or openly. It makes no difference to Bellerophon 
whether the ambush into which he falls hide twenty or 
fifty foes : it matters not to the Icelandic Grettir whether 
he finds himself surrounded by forty or eighty enemies, 
or to the Knight of the Misshapen Coat whether he be 
assailed by a hundred knights at once (p. 146), or to 
Tristram whether a whole troop of King Mark's men set 
upon him single-handed (p. 143). In each instance the 
same doom awaits the assailants which falls on the 
captains with their fifties sent to summon Elijah to the 
^presence of King Ahaziah. All are scattered as chaff 
before the wind, or smitten like a tree blasted by the 
thunderbolt. With men these things are absurd impossi- 
bilities. If as nature-myths which tell us of the irresistible 
power of the sun, the lightning, or the hurricane, these 
stories become full of truth and meaning, what justifica- 
tion can we have for resisting the inevitable inference ? 

What, again, is the madness which comes upon Tris- 



44 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

tram and Lancelot in their mad career, but the madness 
The madness which seizes on Herakles after a long course of 
of Tristram beneficent action : and what is the madness of 

and Lance- ' 

lot. Herakles but the unrestrained force which con- 

verts the beautiful Phoibos, whom the Nymphs wrap at 
his birth in a spotless robe of white, into the terrible 
Chrysaor whom no earthly being can withstand ? 

We have already seen that in the stories of Sir Balin 
Subordina- and Sir Grareth, Arthur himself becomes a sub- 
Artirarin ordinate personage, and that, too, in the very 
B a e iin?Lan-° points in which in his own myth he is the pecu- 
TiistVam. liar hero. In each case a sword is to be drawn 
forth from a stone or an anvil ; and in each case it moves 
lightly as a feather at the touch of the one knight who 
alone is destined to draw it out. This knight is neces- 
sarily the hero of each particular story. Nothing can 
show more clearly or convincingly the artificial process by 
which the romance as we have it has been brought into 
shape. Nor can this assertion be twisted into a charge 
that unity of authorship is denied for compositions which 
have manifestly proceeded from a single poet or story- 
teller. It leaves this controversy altogether on one side. 
The whole myth of Arthur might have been first put into 
its present form by Sir Thomas Malory, although we 
know that it was not ; but it would be none the less a fact 
that the stories of Arthur, Balin, Lancelot, Tristram, of 
the Isoltes, and the Elaines, and Gruenevere, repeat each 
other, that this likeness is inherent in the materials 
on which the romance-writer worked, and that he was 
compelled in each episode to give the supremacy to the 
hero of that episode. If then into this episode the heroes 
of other tales be introduced, it follows inevitably that they 
must play in it a subordinate part. For our present 
purpose it is a matter of not the slightest moment 
whether one or a hundred Homers put together our Iliad. 
But if the whole Trojan war be a nature-myth, exhibiting 



Introduction. 45 

the struggle of the solar powers in the East to recover the 
dawn goddess who with her treasures of light and beauty 
had been stolen from the West, it is a fact as self-evident 
that Sarpedon, the creeping light, who conies from Lykia, 
the brilliant land, through which flows the golden stream 
of Xanthos, is a solar hero, along with his friend Grlaukos, 
the gleaming day, which survives the death of the bright 
sun of the morning. But it is not the less clear that this 
piece of genuine solar myth is misplaced in the later 
structure of the Iliad, for Paris as stealing away Helen 
from the West represents the robber Panis, who seek to 
detain Sarama in their strongholds, and that they who take 
Dart with him are defending the citadel of night against 
the children of the sun who are come to take away the 
Dawn-maiden from the East and lead her to her Western 
home. Hence, in mythical congruity, Sarpedon ought to 
be fighting by the side of Achilleus ; but to the old story- 
tellers such inconsistencies were matters of little moment, 
and not only Sarpedon, but Memnon, the very child of 
Eos, the dawn, are arrayed on the side of Hektor. Yet 
the real spirit of the myth is in no case violated, for to 
Sarpedon Ilion is a spot far to the west of his bright 
Lykia, and no sooner is he slain than the old phrases 
assert their supremacy, and Phoibos himself wraps in a 
pure white robe of evening mist the body which Sleep 
and Death bear through the still night hours to the 
gleaming portals of the dawn. Xay, even into the story 
of Paris himself a mass of solar myth has been imported, 
and from the Trojan point of view the false seducer be- 
comes in his relations with Oinone the kinsman of Achil- 
leus, Meleagros, or Sigurd. 1 These modifications, ren- 
dered necessary by the interweaving of independent 
myths, precisely illustrate the changes which pass over 
Arthur or Lancelot in those parts of the tale which bear 
no immediate relation to themselves. In his own field 
each is supreme ; but when we reach the episodes of Balin 

1 Aryan Mythohgy, ii. 75, et seq. 



4.6 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

or Gralahad, he can no longer be the peerless knight, and 
the sword which had yielded to his touch now remains 
immovable in spite of all his efforts. Nay, he undergoes 
even positive defeat, and Arthur is unhorsed by Tristram 
(p. 152). In a still more striking scene, the powers of 
healing, which Arthur vainly tries to exercise on Sir Urre 
of Hungary, are roused by the touch of Lancelot, for here 
we are in that portion of the tale in which Lancelot is 
the bravest and best knight in all the world. As such, 
he fights with and overcomes a terrible boar, which, be- 
fore he can slay it, succeeds in gashing his thigh and 
inflicting a fearful wound, — an incident which we find 
again in the early career of Odysseus, and in the trans- 
parent myth of Adonis. 1 

In the horn of Morgan le Fay, which is said to test the 
fidelity of wives, we see another feature common to the 
Taiismanic m yths of many ages and many lands. Except 
tests. i n the hands of the innocent, the liquor of the 

horn is spilt (p. 143), just as in the so-called Orphic poem 
the testing stone held in the husband's hand hurls the 
faithless wife from her couch. The same marvellous 
power of discernment belongs to the horns of Bran and 
Ceridwen, of Huon of Bordeaux, and of Tegan Euroron. 
This property is possessed also by the vessel of the Sang- 
real, which heals the guileless knight, while it may not 
be seen by Sir Lancelot (p. 180). In the story of Be vis of 
Hampton the stone becomes a talisman insuring the safety 
of the maiden who wears it (p. 279), while the purity of 
the maiden becomes itself in turn a power which, as in 
the story of Una, disarms the rage of lions (p. 283). 

Not less noteworthy is the ship or barge of the dead, 
which, while it carries the dead to their last home, also 
The sbi of ^ells ^ ne s t° r y °f their lives or proclaims their 
the dead. wrongs. Thus, when Hermanec the lord of the 

1 Aryan Mythology, ii. 172. 

- Lithika, 312. Aryan Mythology, ii. 120. 



In troduction. 4 7 

Red City is murdered, the barge in which the dead man 
lies with a letter in his hand is seen by Tristram and 
Palamides, and the latter, who hastens to avenge him, is 
borne on the vessel past the Eed City to the Delectable 
Isle, where he fights with and slays the murderers (p. 160). 
In the touching episode of the Fair Maid of Astolat the 
barge which bears her body down the Thames is espied by 
Arthur and Gruenevere, and the letter in the maiden's hand 
reveals to them the story of her ill-fated love for Lance- 
lot. The same process which converted the horn of 
Amaltheia into a talismanic test as the horn of Oberon 
has derived from the barge of the dead the ship of Faith, 
which warns all the mistrustful against entering it, and 
into which (xalahad enters with Percivale and his sister 
in the quest of the Holy Grrail (p. 194). But the sister 
of Percivale, when, like Iphigeneia, she has yielded up 
her gentle life to heal the lady of the castle, is laid again 
in the same and yet another barge, which is to bear her 
to the city of Sarras, that there her body may be laid to 
rest in the Spiritual Place, in which the good Sir (xalahad 
is also to take his long sleep. And once again the ship 
reappears in the tale, when Arthur himself is to be borne 
away from the sight of men, and when the three queens, 
who have already been seen in different guise in the early 
career of Grawaine and his brother, once more do their 
office as the Weird or Fatal Sisters. A clearer light is 
thrown on the nature of this ship in the story of Sceaf, the 
father of Scild, in the myth of Beowulf. Here Sceaf, 
whose name tells its own tale, comes, as he goes, in a ship, 
with a sheaf of corn at his head ; and when his work 
among men is, done, he bids his people lay him in the 
ship, and in the ship he is laid accordingly with the 
goodliest weapons and the most costly of ornaments, and 
with all things which may gladden his heart in the 
phantom land. Here we have in its fairer colours the 
picture which in many lands and ages has been realised 



48 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

in terrible completeness. In all these instances we see 
the expression of the ancient and universal animistic con- 
viction, which ascribed to the dead all the feelings and 
wants of the living, and which led men to slay beasts to 
furnish them with food, and to slaughter their wives or 
comrades that they might journey to their new home with 
a goodly retinue. 1 For the ideal of the ship itself we 
must look elsewhere. All these vessels move of their own 
will, and though without oar, or rudder, or sail, or rigging, 
they never fail to reach the port for which they are 
making. They belong, in short, to that goodly fleet, in 
which the ships may assume all shapes and sizes, so that 
the bark which can bear all the JEsir may be folded up 
like a napkin. The child who is asked where he has seen 
such ships will assuredly say, ' In the sky ;' and when this 
answer is given, the old animism, which, as Mr. Tylor 
well says, is the ultimate source of human fancy, 2 explains 
everything in the myths related of these mysterious barks, 
which grow big and become small again at their pleasure, 
which gleam with gold, and purple, and crimson, or sail 
on in sombre and gloomy majesty, which leave neither 
mountain, nor field, nor glen un visited, and which carry 
with them wealth or poverty, health or disease, — which, 
in short, are living beings. As such, they know the 
thoughts and works of men, and can speak with those 
whom they carry across the seas of heaven ; and thus we 
have the ship which bears Odysseus from the Phaiakian 
land to the shores of Ithaka, and carries the Argonauts 
to the coasts of Kolchis. 

Another boat-shaped vessel is the Sangreal itself, which 
imparts to the Arthur myth, or rather to that of Lancelot, 
The sang- its peculiar character. Whatever be the beauty 
real. which the influence of Christian sentiment has 

thrown over this legend, all that we have to do in the first 

1 Tylor, Primitive Culture, vol. i. eh. xi. 2 lb. i. 248. 

3 Aryan Mythology, ii. 278. 



# 

Introduction. 49 

instance is to mark closely the points of likeness between 
this and other myths, and these points of likeness are to 
be found in its shape, its healing and life-giving proper- 
ties, and its inexhaustible fertility. To these are added 
certain talismanic powers which, as we have already seen, it 
shares in common with some other circular or boat-shaped 
symbols of wealth and plenty. But elsewhere this oval 
emblem is most closely associated with the rod, the pillar, 
or the spear, the stauros or the pole, which became the 
special sign of the sun as the generative or fecundating 
power. Hence, even if the Grrail vessel were not in this 
Arthur or Lancelot myth connected with any spear-shaped 
signs, we should be fully justified in placing this myste- 
rious dish in the class to which belong the cups of Ehea and 
Demeter, of Serapis, and of the milkwoman or gardener's 
wife in Hindu folk-lore, the lotos of Harp-i-chruti, the 
jar of Aristomenes, the divining cup of Joseph, the ivory 
ewer of Solomon, the goblet of Taliesin, the luck of 
Edenhall, the horn of Amaltheia, the inexhaustible table 
of the Ethiopians, and the Eound Table of Ghienevere, 
— all of these being simply modifications of the Hindu 
Yoni, which reappears in the ships of Isis and Athene, 
and the altar of Baal, which supported the Semitic 
Ashera. But the connexion of the Grrail vessel with the 
spear-shaped emblem, which is but a modification of the 
Phallos, is not only not lacking in the Lancelot story : 
it is put forward with a prominence which is the more 
significant, if we assume that the romance maker was 
utterly unconscious of the nature and origin of the 
materials on which he was working. If in other myths 
the upright emblem, the staff or rod of wealth and pros- 
perity which Phoibos gives to Hermes, becomes the 
arbor vitce or crux salutifera, and if in purely heathen 
models it is represented as shedding drops which denote 
the blood or the life, we have the whole framework of the 
myth over which the introduction of Christian sentiment 

E 



50 Popttlar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

has shed a colouring of marvellous beauty. 1 If, while we 
feel that the evidence is overwhelming, the conclusion to 
which we are brought should seem somewhat repulsive, we 
have only to remember again that precisely the same idea 
lies at the root of institutions to all appearance so utterly 
unlike each other as those of the Corinthian Hierodouloi, 
the Grerairai of Athens, and the vestal virgins who reap- 
pear in the Catholic and orthodox nun. But to the con- 
nexion of the two emblems it is impossible to shut our 
eyes, as we read how, after seeing the Sangreal in the house 
of King Pelles, Bors, having laid himself down to sleep 
in his armour, beholds a light in which he discerns a spear 
great and long coming straight towards him point-long. 
This spear is seen again in the supreme vision vouchsafed 
to the pure Sir Gralahad and his two comrades, when, the 
holy Grail being manifested, four angels enter, two bear- 
ing candles, the third a towel, and the fourth a spear 
from which fall three drops of blood, and which is finally 
placed upright on the holy vessel. But it was obviously 
inevitable that this imagery should to Christians convey 
another meaning ; and thus the liquor, which in the horn 
of Oberon is the costliest wine, becomes the blood of 
the Saviour which Joseph of Arimathea caught in the 
sacred dish in which he ate the lamb on Shrove Tuesday, 
while its life-giving and healing powers are not less 
necessarily referred to the Eucharist (p. 200). That the 

1 The author of the Introduction to Britannia after the Romans speaks 
of the Bomance of the Sangreal as ' a blasphemous imposture, more extra- 
vagant and daring than any on record, in which it is endeavoured to pass 
off the mysteries of bardism for direct inspirations of the Holy Ghost.' — 
Craik, History of English Literature, i. 141. — Speculations on these mysteries 
may be safely left to those who may possess, and be satisfied with, the evi- 
dence that such mysteries ever existed. But when we see that the elements 
of the myth are found in traditions scattered over the world, the notion that 
the Grail story is an imposture of late invention becomes absurd. Doubt- 
less the romance-maker shed his own colouring over the legend ; and this 
colouring was necessarily Christian. Nothing further is needed to explain 
the whole romance in the shape which it finally assumed. 



Introduction. 5 1 

achieving of the Sangreal should be confined to the pure 
Gralahad is, it needs scarcely to be remarked, no peculiarity 
in the Grrail myth. We have already traced this property 
through a large number of legends relating to the signs or 
symbols of life, fertility, wealth, healing, and power. 

But the myth lent itself so readily to the purposes of 
Christian teaching that we cease to feel surprised when in 
the Arthur romance it becomes the means of en- introduction 
forcing many doctrines of mediseval Catholicity, sentiment. 
Thus when Gralahad rescues the wounded Sir Melias 
from the attacks of two knights, he is told by a hermit 
that the punishment was inflicted because Melias had 
ventured on the quest of the Grrail without first making 
a clean confession, and that the two knights who attacked 
him were pride and covetousness (p. 179). Thus the 
dalliance of the Christian with deadly sin is allegorised in 
the temptation of Sir Percivale by the beautiful woman 
whose pavilion, when he makes the sign of the cross, 
vanishes away in smoke and flame (p. 185). This tempta- 
tion is practised with less success upon Sir Bors, but the 
mode in which it is repelled is the same (p. 190). In the 
same way the incident of the serpent and the lion, on each 
of which rides a woman, is explained as an allegory of the 
old law and the new (p. 184). The ingenuity exhibited in 
the framing of these allegorical visions cannot be disputed. 
There is a singular force and beauty in the dreams of 
Ector and Grawaine, who are told that the fair meadow 
which they had seen is humility and patience — things 
ever fresh and green — the black bulls which fed in it 
being knights of the Eound Table, who set out on the 
Grrail quest, black with sins, while the three white bulls 
are Gralahad, Percivale, and Bors, the one spot in the last 
of these three being the taint of the single sin to which 
he is yielding. In this vision Lancelot is seen upon an 
ass, which denotes his humiliation ; while the incident 
which represents the water as sinking away from him 

E 2 



52 Poptdar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

when he stoops to drink is clearly derived from the myth 
of Tantalos (pp. 188, 189). But if the Christian meaning 
attached to the myth of the Sangreal has led to the same 
gross and repulsive notions of transubstantiation which 
disfigure the lives of some saints of the Eoman Church, 
and which make the romance- writer represent Lancelot 
at mass as hastening to the help of the priest whom he 
supposes to be burdened by the human form which two 
men standing on either side above him have placed 
between his hands (p. 198), it has also reached a higher 
standard and enforces a more wholesome lesson when to 
Lancelot's assertion that, if he be sinful, the prayers of his 
pure son Gralahad should be of benefit to him, the priest 
replies, ' Be sure that thou dost fare the better for his 
prayers ; but the son shall not bear the iniquity of the 
father, neither the father bear the iniquity of the son' 
(p. 186). 

But although almost all the closing scenes of the 
romance are lit up with the splendour of Christian feeling, 
The two there are features in it which we can no more 
Gueuevere. regard as Christian, or even as human, than we 
can the narratives of certain events related in the 
Odyssey. The high ascetic tone imparted to the close of 
Lancelot's relations with Gruenevere may be and is probably 
due entirely to the force of Christian opinion ; and this 
fact must clearly distinguish the earlier and later charac- 
ters of the myth. Bather it must be said that the whole 
romance, as we have it, is really built up on the assump- 
tion that the love of Lancelot and Gruenevere is throughout 
sensual. The very achievement of the Sangreal depends 
on the birth of a child of Lancelot ; and except on such 
an assumption the result is rendered impossible. Lance- 
lot is entrapped by Elaine, because he supposes that he 
has been summoned to Queen Gruenevere. But this is not 
a solitary instance. The same incident is repeated when 
the daughter of King Pelles visits the court of Arthur ; 



Introduction. 53 

nor is it possible to mistake the nature of the colloquy 
between Lancelot and Gruenevere when the knight tears 
away the bars from the window that he may thus enter 
her chamber (p. 211). It may be urged that these are 
later additions which mar the ancient purity of the myth; 
but in favour of such a notion there is little indeed to be 
said. It cannot be said that the romance-maker who has 
drawn a perfectly consistent character in Gralahad would 
have allowed a series of incidents which involve a mon- 
strous contradiction between the character and the 
career of Lancelot and Gruenevere, as he has drawn them. 
Gralahad before his birth is destined to be the pure and 
spotless knight, and such he remains always. Not less 
earnestly are Gruenevere and Lancelot made to declare that 
their love has never been of a kind to reflect the least dis- 
honour on King Arthur ; yet this solemn asseveration, 
made again and again, is contradicted by a series of inci- 
dents which they are compelled to keep out of Arthur's 
knowledge by a long course of equivocation and lying. 
In short, we have here two stories — one in which Gruen- 
evere is faithful to her husband, and Lancelot looks on her 
as a man may look to his guardian angel, and another in 
which she is faithless, and responds to a sensual love on 
the part of Lancelot ; and all that we have to determine 
is, which of these stories is the earlier. It seems almost 
self-evident that the idea which is certainly here found in 
the germ, and which has been expanded by Mr. Tennyson 
until the result is a complete transformation of these two 
characters, is but a thin coating of later Christian senti- 
ment thrown over the earlier picture in which Gruenevere 
not only seems to play, but really plays the part of Helen 
as she is drawn by the great tragic poets of Athens. 
When first Arthur thinks of wedding her., he is warned, 
as we have seen, by the wise Merlin that she will not be 
a wholesome wife for him ; and from the circumstances 
already noticed it is clear that according to the concep- 



54 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

tion of some one or other of the romance-makers her 
actual faithlessness began before Lancelot had seen the 
future mother of his child. We may, if we please, say 
that the sensual fury, displayed by Gruenevere when she 
finds that the very plan which she has laid to keep Lance- 
lot by her side leads to his being again entrapped by 
Elaine while she sojourns in Arthur's court, is to be 
charged to the corrupt imagination of a later age : but 
we need only repeat that the very structure of the story 
which relates the career of Gralahad utterly precludes this 
notion. Nay, Gruenevere is not only a destroyer of many 
knights, as she might easily be on the hypothesis that 
though seemingly guilty she was really innocent ; we have 
seen that she combines cruelty with her sensuality (214). 
Knowing perfectly well that Meliagrance was speaking 
the truth and is fighting in a righteous cause, she longs 
to see him slain ; and when he is overthrown and yields to 
Lancelot in the ordeal of battle, she gives to her lover a 
private signal that he shall in no case suffer- the defeated 
knight to live. As to Lancelot, who thus commits murder 
at her bidding, he avoids in this instance the utterance 
of a direct lie, because the partial knowledge of Melia- 
grance makes it possible for him to employ the tricks of 
a dishonest special pleader. Thus then we have falsehood 
and treachery on the one side, and faithlessness on the 
other, — in other words we have in Lancelot and Gruenevere 
the counterparts of Sarama and the Panis, of Paris and 
and the taking away of Gruenevere from the court 
of Arthur, who had cherished him as his friend, answers 
to the taking away of Helen from Menelaos by the man 
in whom he had placed a perfect trust. Except on the 
one supposition, which we have seen to be untenable, the 
character of Lancelot precisely reflects that of Paris; and 
the words of Menelaos before the walls of Ilion are echoed 
in those of Arthur in the supreme strife before the gates 
of Joyous Grard, ' Fie on thy fair speech ; I am now thy 



Introduction. 55 

mortal foe, for thou hast slain my knights, and dis- 
honoured my queen ' (p. 220). In short, Lancelot is 
throughout a man of fair words, who disclaims all 
thoughts of treason (pp. 222, 223), even while he knows 
that he has shamefully deceived his friend. It is the pic- 
ture of Paris as drawn in the Iliad ; and if it be said that 
in that poem, as we have it, Paris does not exhibit the un- 
faltering courage or the invincible strength of Lancelot, 
we have only to remember that the portrait given to us 
in our Iliad is not the only mythical picture of the 
treacherous son of Priam. 1 But in spite of all his efforts, 
the Christian sentiment of the romance-maker cannot dis- 
guise the nature of the materials which he was handling. 
If Arthur was the man so little extreme to regard what 
is done amiss, as he is here represented, so little disposed 

1 The verdict of the poet of the Iliad may be summed up in the single 
line, 

AvcrirapL, eTSos oLpicrre, yvvaifxaves, TjirepoTrevTa. — II. iii. 39. 

But the story of the birth and the early years of Paris, his irresistible 
piowess at the games, his redoubtable exploits against thieves and evil- 
doers, are not less parts of the great myth of Paris, as it has come down to 
us, than those portions of it which are related in our Iliad. That the two 
pictures are inconsistent is unquestionable ; but it is inconsistent that the 
invincible Arthur should be defeated by Balin, or that Sarpedon and 
Memnon, the bright solar heroes, should be found fighting on the side of 
the thievish powers of darkness. But on this point it is not necessary to add 
to the remarks already made. The real matter to be determined is the idea 
which lies at the root of each mythical character — the natural inference 
being that that which is inconsistent with this idea in the myths, as they 
come before us, is of later growth, and that to this fact we must attribute 
the fairer colouring thrown over the career of Lancelot. Beyond all doubt, 
in the history of the human mind, the cruder fancy generally precedes the 
more polished fiction ; and thus it has been well urged by Mr. Paley that 
the conception of Helen by the Greek lyric and tragic poets is inexplicable 
on the supposition that they were already familiar with the character of 
Helen as drawn out in our Iliad and Odyssey. The so-called answer of 
Aristotle is, as he contends, no answer at all, for it is a mere matter of fact 
that the Iliad, as we have it, abounds with dramatic scenes and incidents 
more striking perhaps than any which the tragedians have handled, and 
far more likely to make a deep impression upon an audience. 



56 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

to think evil of another without due evidence, the per- 
sistence with what he follows up to the death a quarrel 
with his friend on a charge which, according to some por- 
tions of the story as we have it, is unproven, and even after 
the touching protestations of innocence which mark the 
restitution of Gruenevere to her husband (p. 223), becomes 
inexplicable. But if the character of Arthur, as here 
drawn, is not Christian, it is because the portraits given 
of Achilleus and Odysseus in our Iliad and Odyssey are not 
human. The perplexity which we must feel, so long as 
we take them to be what they are not, will cease so soon 
as we recognise in all these heroes the chief actors in the 
great tragedy of nature. 

The ending of this great drama we have now reached, 
as it is wrought out in the great Arthur myth. The 
Arthur and victory of the snake Ahi is the victory of the 
Mordied. great worm of darkness which slays the light 
of day ; and in the myths of every land this worm, viper, 
or dragon plays its deadly part. The fair Dawn maiden 
treads unwittingly on the adder which stings her to death, 
and goes down to her cheerless sojourn in Hades till 
Orpheus comes to lead her back again to the land of the 
living. The young sun, Herakles, strangles these snakes 
of darkness when they assail him in his cradle. The 
throttling viper of the Veda becomes the Azidahaka or 
Zohak of Zoroastrian and modern Persian mythology, the 
Kalinak or black dragon slain by Krishna in later Hindu 
legends. And thus, after his wild but brilliant career, 
Eognar Lodbrog is thrust into the dungeon where he 
charms the serpents with his music, until at last one 
creeps stealthily to his side and stings him in the heart. 
""""■^ Hence also in the Arthur myths visions of snakes bring the 
foreboding of the end. The king dreams that he sits in a 
chair, fastened to a wheel, beneath which lies a deep black 
water full of serpents and noisome things, and that suddenly 
the wheel turns round and he is plunged into the infernal 



Introduction. 5 7 

stream where the serpents seize him by all his limbs. From 
this terrible dream he passes into a half-waking state in 
which he thinks that he sees the form of the dead Grawaine, 
and hears his voice warning him not to tight on the 
morrow, bnt to make a month's truce with Mordred, whose 
name (although little can be said of the names in these 
later compositions) seems to betoken him as the mur- 
derer, biter, or crusher. The king follows Grawaine's 
advice ; but his doom is not thus to be averted. It had 
been agreed that if during the conference between Arthur 
and Mordred a sword should be raised on either side, 
this should be the signal for mortal battle. But while 
they are yet speaking the snake again plays its part. An 
adder bites the heel of one of Arthur's knights, who 
raises his weapon to slay the venomous beast ; and 
Mordred's people, taking alarm, rush upon their adver- 
saries. The prophecy of Merlin is well nigh accom- 
plished. The father and the son are to die, each by the 
other's hand. In vain Sir Lucan warns Arthur to re- 
member his dream ; but he will not hear. He sees the 
traitor who has done all the wrong, and betide him life, 
or betide him death, he is resolved to slay him. But 
Mordred, writhing like a snake along the spear which 
has passed through his body, smites Arthur on the temples 
with the sword which he holds in both hands, and the 
king falls back in a swoon. It is the old tale of the fatal 
children, of children born to be great, born to be kings, 
born to slay their parents. There is death everywhere : 
and the phrases which described the death of the day and 
the night, of the sun and the darkness, of the dawn and 
the dew, explain every incident of the closing scenes in 
the lives of the heroes or maidens who represent them in 
mythical stories. If it was said of the morning and the 
sun that the bright children had slain their dark parent, 
this in mythical tales would become Eomulus and Eemus 
slaying Amulius, Oidipous slaying Laios, Perseus smiting 



58 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

down Akrisios, and Cyrus overthrowing Astyages. 1 If 
the sun put the dawn to flight, this was Indra shattering 
the car of Dakana, or Phoibos chasing Daphne, or Alpheios 
hastening after Arethousa. If the sun scorched up the 
dew, this was Kephalos smiting Prokris with the unerring- 
spear in the thicket where the dewdrops glisten longest. 
If the shadows of night blot out the day from the heaven, 
this was Paris slaying Achilleus in the western gates, or 
the blood-red clouds of eventide eating out the life of 
Herakles. All this, it may be urged, has been said again 
and again ; but we can but bring together once more the 
parallelisms which make the death of Arthur only another 
phase of the death of all solar heroes. One feature more 
remains. With the death of the sun his rays cease to 
shoot across the heaven. The great being is gone who 
alone could yield the unerring spear, or bow, or sword ; 
and his weapon must go with him. Hence Arthur's 
sword must no more be profaned by the touch of mortal 
hand ; and as the sun rises from the eastern waters as 
Phoibos springs to life on Delos, and plunges into his 
sleep like Endymion or Odysseus in the Western Sea, 
so the sword Excaiibur must be restored to the waters 
from which it had arisen. It is the daily fate of the sun, 
as Kephalos falls from the Western Cape into the Leuka- 
dian Grulf, or as Aphrodite returns to the sea-foam from 
which she sprang, like Athene the Triton-born. 

Arthur himself, as we have seen, is borne away in the 
barge in which the weird sisters have long waited for him ; 
The ciepar- but he departs, not to die, but only to heal him 
Arthur to f his p-rievous wound in the valley of Avilion, 

the vale of ° J 

Aviiion. the Latmian land in which Endymion takes 
his rest. Still, as the ages rolled on, and experience taught 
men more and more, that there is no man who shall not 
see death, and as the belief grew that in telling Arthur's 

1 The name Astyages, the Persian Asdahag, is but Azidahaka, the 
biting snake, Zohak. — Aryan Mythology, ii. 83. 



Introduction. 59 

story they were speaking of a man who had really lived 
on the earth, so was the need felt more and more of 
saying plainly that he died. But the old myth still 
retained something of its old power ; and the story- 
tellers who chanted the lays of the Helgis or of Arthur 
were each constrained to avow that according to the 
older faith neither Helgi the slayer of Hunding nor 
Arthur the peerless knight had ever died at all, and that 
he who had been king should yet be king again. Arthur 
was now, in short, one of that goodly company which / 
numbers in its ranks the great Karl and Barbarossa, """ 
Sebastian of Portugal, the Tells of Eutli, and the Moor 
Boabdil. None of these are dead ; for the sun, while 
men see him not, is but slumbering under that spell of 
night, whether in her beautiful or in her awful forms, 
which keeps true Thomas beneath the hills of Ercildoune, 
or Tanhaiiser in the caves of the Horselberg, or Odysseus 
in the grotto of Kalypso. Arthur does but sleep in the 
charmed slumber of the Cretan Epimenides, of Endymion 
the darling of Selene, of Narkissos, and the Seven Sleepers 
of Ephesus ; and under this spell lies not Arthur only, 
but the wise Merlin who had foretold his birth and 
destiny, had received him as a babe, and had witnessed 
his glory. 1 

1 In his wisdom and his foresight, in his perfect knowledge of a coming 
fate which yet, to Arthur's surprise (p. 243), he makes no attempt to avoid, 
Merlin strongly resembles the Hellenic Odysseus. But the point of the 
story in its closing scenes is the besotted affection of the old sage for a 
damsel who, he knows, cares nought for him. But he suffers the maiden, 
who is a water-nymph, to entice him into a cavern in which she imprisons 
him beneath a great stone. This is precisely the story of Tanhaiiser and 
the goddess of the Horselberg ; with very slight modification it is the story 
of Thomas of Ercildoune (a name which is only another form of Horsel- 
doune or Horselberg), and of Prince Ahmed and the Peri Banou in the 
Arabian Nights Tales. Here he is kept fast in an imprisonment from which 
none can deliver him except the woman who lured him into it ; or, as the 
story avers, not an hundred men could lift the lmge stone beneath which 
Merlin made great dole. This is substantially the legend of the philosopher 



60 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

The analysis of detail in the story might be carried 
much farther ; but enough probably has been said to 
composition leave little doubt of the nature of the materials 
romance. on which the romance-makers had to work, and 
of the extent to which they unconsciously repeated them- 
selves, — so that the same writer could in one and the 

Abu Ajeeb, related by Washington Irving in the Legends of the Alhambra. 
It is true that here it is the sage who contrives to get the Gothic princess 
■within the inchanted gate of his paradise ; but the besotted affection of the 
old man for the blooming maiden is precisely reproduced, and here again it 
is the sorceress only who can set him free. Whenever the sage shows 
symptoms of awakening from his charmed slumber, the tones of her magic 
harp speedily lull him to sleep again. As she is herself imprisoned with 
him, like Venus in the Tanhauser story, this is obviously the only way in 
which she can prolong his captivity. In the Arthur tale, she can leave him 
to himself, because she has enticed him to enter in, while she stands 
without. 

Of the Merlin legend it is scarcely necessary to say more than that the 
notion of his being a demon-child is the result of the same degradation which 
converted Odin himself and all the JEsir into devils. Neither in Teutonic 
nor in Hellenic lands did the Christian missionaries question the existence 
of the gods or heroes named in the mythologies of the tribes to whom they 
preached. The deities were allowed to live, but thpy lived on under a curse. 
But that these deified or supernatural beings might connect themselves with 
mortal women, was a belief unquestioned whether by those who framed the 
story of the hero Astrabakos (Herodotos, vi. 69), or of the loves of the angels 
in Hebrew tradition. Hence the child of a deified hero or demigod and 
of a mortal woman would, in the estimation of Christian teachers, be the 
offspring of a diabolical incubus ; and thus the nature of Merlin, as of 
Tamlane in the Scottish ballad, would be definitely determined. The mar- 
vellous powers of the child would be the natural result of his extraordinary 
parentage; and the same powers which made the child Iamos acquainted 
with the language of birds would enable Merlin to vindicate the name of 
his mother, or at the least to convict her accusers of sins not less than 
those which were laid to her charge. Like Herakles, Perseus, Dionysos, 
and other mythical beings, Merlin has many enemies who are bent on taking 
his life ; and his wisdom is specially proved by his power of revealing the 
reason why the walls of a castle fall down as soon as they are built, — a re- 
sult due to the agency of dragons underneath a running water. This con- 
nexion of dragons with water is common to a vast number of legends ; but 
this special revelation of Merlin may be compared with that of the griffin 
or the giant in the German story of the Old Griffin and the Norse tale of 
Rich Peter the Pedlar, and perhaps also with the problem on the solution 
of which depends the life of the giant or the sorcerer in the Hindu story of 



Introduction. 6 1 

same narrative present three or four versions of the same 
tale, believing them, nevertheless, to be different, because 
the names and the local colouring were more or less 
changed. The Argives, the .Athenians, and the Thebans 
believed most firmly in the thorough independence of 
their several tribal legends ; and yet the story of Perseus 
simply reflects that of Theseus, and is repeated in that of 
Oidipous. The same condition of thought rendered it 
possible for a mediaeval composer or compiler of romance 
to relate the story of Arthur and Balin, of Gareth and 
Galahad and Lancelot and Tristram, in a connected nar- 
rative, without the consciousness that he was really 
weaving together five or six different versions of one 
single story. 1 But without going further, it may safely 
be maintained that no features of any importance in the 
whole Arthur romance have been left out of sight in these 
remarks, and that the whole story may therefore take its 
place in that large family of heroic legends which have 
their origin in mythical phrases describing the phenomena 
of the day or the year. 

Eomances like those of Bevis of Hampton and Guy of 
Warwick may be regarded as rather the arbitrary fictions 
of a comparatively late age, than the genuine The story of 
growth of popular mythical tradition ; but this Hampton. 
very fact, if it be admitted, only makes more note- 
worthy the adherence of the romance-maker to the old 
models. When he could insert at will the fancies of his 

Punchkin (Frere, Deccan Tales), and the Norse tale of the Griant who had 
no heart in his body (Grimm). 

The Merlin story which Jeffrey introduces into the life of Arthur is found 
in Nennius {History of the Britons, 42) who, however, calls the child 
Ambrose, and having said that he was conceived by do mortal man, makes 
him assert that a Eoman consul was his father. Whatever be the date of 
Nennius, his ' History ' is probably two centuries earlier than that of 
Jeffrey. 

1 The Arthur story has been shown by Mr. Campbell to be in all essential 
features the same as the Highland legend of the history of the Feinne. 
— Popular Tales of the West Highlands, iv. 267. Aryan Mythology, i. 316. 



62 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

own mind, it is strange that he should still keep within the 
charmed circle in which we recognise the familiar imagery 
of the oldest Aryan myths. Like Arthur, or Tristram, or 
Lancelot, or Galahad, Bevis is born to greatness: 1 like 
Tristram, and Arthur, and a host of others, he is in peril 
from those who wish to take his life, and the device which 
Saber hits upon to hide the fact that Bevis is not slain is 
one whicli we find far beyond the circle of Aryan folk- 
lore. The sequel of the story seems to be built on the 
model of that of Bellerophon. Like him, Bevis is a 
match for any number of men who may assail him : like 
him, he is the victim of treacherous letters which order 
his host to put him to death. Like him, he is subjected 
by his host to terrible dangers ; but from the noisome pit 
full of reptiles, answering to the Iron Stove or the Glass 
Coffin of German tales, Bevis escapes as Bellerophon es- 
capes from the ambuscade which is placed for his destruc- 
tion. With this story are interwoven incidents which are 
common to the myth of Odysseus and the tale of Logedas 
Eajah and other popular Hindu legends. He returns to 
the home where he had left the lady of his love, clad in 
palmer's raiment, and is told that of all who come in such 
garb she, like Penelope, asks tidings of the man of many 
griefs and wanderings who has left her mourning. As 
Odysseus again is recognised by his dog Argos, so is Bevis 
known at once to his trusty steed Arundel. Like almost 
all other kindred heroes, he is a slayer of dragons and a 
tamer of giants, and Ascapard plays the part of a Troll 
who may be made to do good service but is not altogether 
to be trusted. Doubtless the constant repetition of inci- 
dents proves a comparative lack of imagination on the 
part of the romance-maker ; but it proves still more 
clearly the nature of the materials which he sought to 

1 There were versions which represented Bevis as a son of Olger the 
Dane.— Ludlow, Popular Epics, ii. 303. — But the parentage of these heroes 
is a matter of very secondary importance. 



Introduction. 6 



bring into shape. Josian, who lulls her suitor to sleep 
on her lap in order to be rid of his importunities and 
then strangles him, is simply a more active Penelope 
avenging her own wrongs. In the disguise by which she 
makes herself like the Loathly Lady, she assumes a form 
which the brilliant hero or the beautiful maiden of Eastern 
and Western tradition can alike put on, and which, passing- 
through the phase exhibited by the ugly frog or toad in 
Grerman folk-lore, carries us to the myth of Bheki the 
frog-sun. Of the battle in Cheapside it is enough to say 
that it is as sheer an impossibility as the most marvellous 
exploits attributed to Grettir or to Herakles. The great 
strife is followed by a long period of peace and happy 
love, until at last Bevis, and his horse Arundel, and the 
devoted Josian, all pass away from earth together. 

The idea which runs through the earlier portions of the 
story of Gruy of Warwick has found expression in the 
Arthur story in the contempt shown by the The story 
maiden who serves as guide to Gfareth in his Warwick. 
disguise as Prettyhands, and in the ordeal to which he is 
subjected by the lady of the castle (p. 123). But not 
only is Gruy a knight-errant and a slayer of dragons and 
noisome beasts ; the doom of the wanderer presses on him 
still more heavily. He toils hard and achieves great 
glory, that he may win the maiden whom he loves : and 
when he has won her, forty days only pass before he feels 
that he must go from her side, and putting on a pilgrim's 
dress he wanders away to the Holy Land. But he has 
still mighty works to do ; and the Ethiopian giant and 
other foes fall beneath his hands. In his later wanderings 
he comes across his friend Thierry, of whom an incident 
is recorded which is found in other legends, and illus- 
trates the old animistic belief of the separable soul which 
can go out from the body and return to it again. In the 
story of King (xunthrarn the soul goes forth in the form 
of a snake ; but the movement of the weasel which creeps 



64. Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

from Thierry's throat differs not much from that of the 
snake. 1 The fact that in the Grunthram myth the watcher 
is a servant seems to show that Gruy here plays really the 
subordinate part which Arthur plays in those portions of 
the romance which do not immediately concern himself. 
Of the incident itself Mr. Tylor says : < This is one of 
those instructive legends which preserve for us, as in a 
museum, relics of an early intellectual condition of our 
Aryan race, in thoughts which to our modern minds have 
fallen to the level of quaint fancy, but which still remain 
sound and reasonable philosophy to the savage. A Karen 
at this day would appreciate every point of the story : the 
familiar notion of spirits not crossing the water, which he 
exemplifies in his Burmese forests by stretching threads 
across the brook for the ghosts to pass along ; the idea of 
the soul going forth embodied in an animal ; and the 
theory of the dream being a real journey of the sleeper's 
soul.' 2 It is possible that this idea may be faintly traced 
in that scene in the wanderings of Vicram Maharajah 3 
in which the cobra emerges at will from his throat. But 
the connexion cannot go beyond the mere suggestion of 
the imagery ; for the story of Vicram makes it evident 
that the cobra which enters into his throat is the snake of 
winter, which makes the rajah miserable until he can be 
freed from it ; nor can he be freed from it except by Per- 
sephone or Iduna who returns in spring from the cheerless 
land. If any doubt still remained as to the nature of 
this myth it would be set at rest by the fact that the 
slaying of the cobra is followed by the recovery of the 
treasure which he had stolen, — an incident repeated in 
the transparent myth of the treasure guarded by the ser- 
pent Fafnir who is slain by Sigurd. It is singular, how- 
ever, that the connexion between the snake and water, or 
hidden treasure, should be preserved in this story of 

1 Aryan Mythology, i. 402-4. 2 Primitive Culture, i. 397. 

3 Frere, Deccan Tales, 129. 



Introduction, 65 

Thierry, as in the myths of Kadmos, the Delphian 
Phoibos, the Sphinx, and many others. Of the closing 
scenes in the life of Gruy ail that needs to be noted is the 
slight modification which here also a Christian sentiment 
has introduced into a legend otherwise repeating the old 
tale of Achilleus and Briseis, of Herakles and Iole, of Odys- 
seus and Penelope. They must be united after the weary 
wandering and the hard strife ; but like Odysseus, and 
Vicram, and the Old Soldier of Grerman folk-lore, and a 
thousand others, he returns in the form, of a pilgrim or a 
beggar, and the wife whom he has forsaken prays him, if 
he can, to give her tidings of her love. But the sight of 
her gentle care of the poor and needy makes him shrink 
from the thought of breaking in upon her works of 
mercy ; and, like Enoch Arden, he turns away and takes 
up his abode in a hermit's cell. When he feels that he 
has but a few hours to live, he sends her a ring by a herd- 
man ; and his wife instantly knows that the poor pilgrim 
is her husband the great Gruy of Warwick. Like Kleo- 
patra, she clasps the hero in her arms, as he gently 
breathes his life away ; and as Kleopatra lingers not long 
upon earth after Meleagros is gone, so he has been but a 
fortnight dead when the sorrow of Felice is ended by her 
union with him in the land where there is no more part- 
ing. The beautiful hues of Eos cannot linger long in the 
sky, when the Sun-god has gone to his rest. 

Of the legend of Eoland but little remains to be said 
after the remarks already made on the historical residuum 
which may exist in the story of King Arthur. The tale of 
No amount of mythical analysis will enable us Eolaud - 
to assert the impossibility of any given incident which 
may or may not have happened. The fact that the inci- 
dents of the Trojan war as given in the Iliad are found 
in many other national or tribal traditions, cannot dis- 
prove the possibility that some actual struggle may have 
taken place on the shores of the Hellespont ; but if every 



66 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

incident be untrustworthy, if we are to get rid of Achil- 
leus and Helen and Memnon and Eos and Sarpedon, the 
tale of Troy is gone, and our knowledge of the war, if 
ever there was a war on the plains of Ilion, must be got 
from other sources. From the Iliad we can learn nothing 
of it ; and from the romance of Eoland we can learn 
nothing of the catastrophe which may have befallen the 
army or a portion of the army of Charles the Great. Ac- 
cording to the romance, Roland and his comrades win a 
victory as splendid as that of Leonidas at Thermopylai, 
although at the same cost. But at best this is but a 
popular tradition ; and another popular tradition is found 
in the magnificent song of Attabiscar, 1 which gives a vivid 
picture of the utter defeat of the invaders. The one tra- 
dition is worth as much as the other, and no more : and 
the attempt to extract any history from them must be 
fruitless. 2 Of the two, the popular Basque song is the 
more credible. Armies may be as utterly routed as that 
of the great Charles is there said to have been ; but the 
exploits of Eoland and his comrades are absolute impossi- 
bilities. Nay, even when the ground is piled with the 
dead whom their swords have smitten down, Eoland has 
not so much as a scratch upon his body, though his 
armour is pierced everywhere with spear-points ; and his 
death is caused not by any wound but by the excessive 

1 Michel, Le Pays Basque, p. 236. Edinburgh Review, April 1864, p. 382. 
Aryan Mythology, i. 189. 

2 Mr. Ludlow, Popular Epics of the Middle Ages, i. 353, cites the opinion 
of M. Panlin Paris, that the battle fought in the Pyrenees, in which twelve 
Prankish chiefs are said to be killed in the time of Dagobert, is a mere re- 
flexion of the traditional Eoncesvaux, the twelve chiefs representing the 
twelve peers of Charles the Great. Here again we need only to fall back 
on our position that the process of extracting history from legend must be 
essentially untrustworthy. Whether a second battle of Eoncesvaux in the 
time of Lewis the Pious was in popular tradition confused with the fight in 
which Eoland fell, is a question with which we are not concerned. The 
reader will find some remarks on this subject in Mr. Ludlow's work (i. 359), 
as well as on the dates to be assigned to the poems which profess to relate 
this hero's exploits. 



Introduction. 6 



toil which splits his skull and lets his brain ooze out at 
his temples. He is, in short, one of those invulnerable 
heroes* whom death must nevertheless be suffered some- 
how or other to lay low ; and his sword Durandal is one 
of those magic weapons of which Excalibur, and Morglay, 
and Mirandoise, and Gram are the fellows. If, when 
drawn from its sheath, it flashes like lightning and blinds 
the eyes of foemen, this may be put down to the license 
of poetical fancy ; but there must surely be some method 
in the madness of so many poets when all describe the 
armour of their heroes in the like terms of hyperbole, 
absurd when the words are spoken of any weapons 
fashioned by human hands, but less than the reality when 
spoken of the spears of Indra or of Phoibos. Nay, Eoland 
himself knows that it is no earthly weapon which he 
wields. It has been brought by angels from heaven, like 
the robe which came to Medeia from Helios ; and when 
Eoland feels that his death-hour has come, even he is 
utterly unable to break it. In vain he strives to shiver 
against marble, sardonyx, and adamant ; and then he sinks 
down exhausted, but with the firm conviction that the 
angels who brought the sword will bear it away again, as 
Excalibur is drawn down beneath the waters from which 
it had arisen. Of the beautiful Holda, to whom Eoland is 
betrothed, it is enough to say that she belongs to that 
bright array of beings to whom death brings life and 
gladness, and among whom are seen the glorious forms of 
Kleopatra and Brynhild, of Daphne and Arethousa, of 
Oinone and Isolte and Felice, of Iole and Briseis, and 
that with this touching myth of the dawn-maiden's death 
ends the lay of the hero, in whom some see the common- 
place prefect of the Britannic march, named in the pages 
of Eginhard. 

But Eoland appears again in Olger the Dane. 1 The 

1 The method which we hare felt hound to follow leaves but little in- 
terest for questions which turn on the country to which a hero belonged. 

f 2 



63 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

name may be changed, and the incidents of his career may 
The legend of be somewhat different ; but he is the same in- 
Daue. vincible hero, whose weapons have been _ forged 

on no earthly anvil. He is the defender of the same 
land, a warrior in the same hosts which the mythical 
Eolancl led on to victory ; and those points in which he 
seems to be unlike the mighty Paladin serve only to 
identify him with other heroes to whom both he and 
, Eolancl stand in the relation of brothers. Like Arthur 
and Tristram and Macduff, like Telephos, Perseus, Cyrus, 
Eomulus, Oidipous, he is one of the fatal children, whose 
greatness no earthly obstacles can hinder. At his birth 
the fairies appear to bestow on him their gifts and their 
blessing, as the Moirai are seen round the cradle of 
Meleagros. His life on earth is to be spent in defending 
the realm of the great Karl : but he stands to him in the 
relation of Herakles to Eurystheus. He is a hostage 
placed in the emperor's hands by his father the King 
of Denmark, and is sentenced to a hard punishment 
because his father fails in his trust. He is rescued 
from death only by the sudden appearance of formidable 
enemies against whom Karl sees that Olger may be as 
useful as Herakles was to his Argive master. In the cause 
of Karl Olger performs exploits as wonderful as those of 
the son of Alkmene; but a sense of wrongs suffered at the 
hands of the emperor sends him forth to be, like Indra 
and Savitar and Woden and Phoibos, a wanderer over the 
wide earth. But Olger is also, like them, one whom all 
women love, and more especially he is the darling of 

It may be, as M. Barrois, cited by Mr. Ludlow (Popular Epics, ii. 247), as- 
serts, that Olger' s being called a Dane is the mere result of a confusion of 
words, inasmuch as for -Dane-is we ought to read Ardenois, and that the 
Dane-marcke, Den-mark, which is Ogier's country, is simply the March of 
Ardennes. Mr. Ludlow doubts ' how far the Danish people, who have 
erected Holgerj Danske ' into their national hero, may assent to the view 
which reduces him into a petty Walloon noble.' As he belongs really neither 
to the one nor to the other, the question is one with which we need not 
concern ourselves. 



Introduction. 69 

Morgan le Fay, who at his birth had promised that when 
he had achieved his greatness she would take him to 
dwell with her in her fairy paradise of Avilion, whither 
Arthur went to be healed of his grievous wound. In her 
love for the Danish warrior we can but see a reflexion 
of the love of Eos for Tithonos, of the goddess of the Horsel- 
berg for Tanhaiiser, of the Fairy Queen for True Thomas 
of Ercildoune. But in this her delicious land, where he 
forgets the years which have passed away, Olger may not 
tarry for ever. The influence of the old faith still sur- 
vives, which holds that Helgi the slayer of Hunding must 
appear again on earth in other guise, that Arthur must 
once more be king, that the slumber of the Ephesian 
sleepers must come to an end, that Sarpedon must once 
again gladden his bright Lykian home. While his days pass 
away in Avilion in a dream of delight, the land which he 
had guarded is overrun by foes; and in -answer to the 
cry of the Franks Morgan ie Fay lifts from his head the 
cap of forgetfulness, and instantly he is eager to hasten 
to the help of the people for whom he had fought in times 
past. But the years which have rolled by have had an 
effect which only the magic of Morgan has been able to 
counteract; and, by a singular modification of the myth 
of Tithonos, she gives him a ring which shall preserve his 
youth so long as he keeps it on his hand. If he parts 
with it he will be a wrinkled old man from whose fingers 
all strength will have passed utterly away* Thus de- 
fended, he appears again in the land of the Franks ; and 
the scenes to which his strange questions and answers 
lead reflect the incidents which followed the visit of the 
Seven Sleepers to the Ephesus where they had spent the 
days of their youth. The old fortune of Olger pursues 
him still. Women cannot see him without loving him : 
and more than all others the princess of the land seeks 
to obtain him for a husband. But the strange rumours 
which had gone abroad about this redoubtable champion 



70 Popular Romances of the Middle Ag 



cs. 



had reached her ears and she determines to test their truth 
by taking away the ring from his hand. Instantly he 
becomes the withered old man which Odysseus appeared 
to be when Athene took away all beauty from his face and 
all brightness from his golden hair. \Yhen it is replaced 
on his finger, he is seen again in all the vigour of early 
manhood; and in this lusty guise he is leading the daughter 
of the land to the altar, when he is once more taken away 
by the Fay Morgan to her beautiful home, whence the 
popular belief still avers that, like Arthur and Helgi and 
Harold and Sebastian, he will return once more. 1 

The story of Havelok is more curious and important, 
not so much in its own incidents, as in the strange modi- 
The story of fications which it has undergone and the wid© 
Haveiok. ran g e of myths with which, etymologically or 
otherwise, it is connected. The comparatively late date 
at which the English story, as we have it, was put together, 
may be taken for granted ; but although from a certain 
point of view this fact has its significance, it has little to 
do with the nature of the materials out of which the 
legend has been evolved. like Arthur and Tristram and 
Guy and Bevis, Havelok is one of the fatal children who 
are born to be kings and to destroy those who keep them • 
out of their rightful inheritance. He is, in short, another 

1 In the infinite multiplicity of details introduced into the myth by 
Trench romance- makers it is possible that some may be really borrowed 
from history while others are mere arbitrary fictions, as from their stupidity 
many of them may be fairly supposed to be. Others are as manifestly 
borrowed from the old familiar stories of mythical imagery. Ogier's horse 
Broiefort, while his master is in the underground prison, is carried away 
and made to serve in a limepit, where all his hair is worn off his fianks and 
his tail is shorn to the stump. But wheu Ogier, whose weight crushes all 
other beasts, leans against him, Broiefort. far from yielding, only strengthens 
himself against the weight. This is, plainly, only another version of the 
myths in which the sword or the cloak is useless except to the one man 
who is destined to draw the one or to put on the other — as in the stories of 
Arthur, Balin, Lancelot, and Orendih — Ludlow, V&ptdar Epics, ii. 295. — 
When Ogier draws his sword, we have the comparison with which the 
weapons of Achilleus, of Arthur, and Tristram have rendered us familiar. 



Introduction. 7 1 

peerless hero, and there is but one maiden in the world 
whom he may take as his wife. Into the Havelok myth 
the story of this maiden is introduced independently ; and 
thus we have in Denmark Havelok and his sisters intrusted 
to the care of Godard, and in .England Goldborough, 
the daughter of iEthelwald, intrusted to the care of Godric, 
the trust in both cases betrayed, and the treachery made 
to subserve the exaltation of the intended victims. Godard 
is resolved that he, not Havelok, shall bear rule in Den- 
mark, and Grodric that Groldborough shall not stand in his 
way in England. But the Moirai and the Norns do not 
work in vain. Grodard puts Havelok into the hands of 
Grim the fisherman, with the strict charge that he shall 
put him to death : and this trust is in its turn betrayed, 
as it is by Harpagos and the messengers of Amulius in the 
stories of Cyrus and of Romulus. When at midnight Grim 
rises to do Godard's bidding, he sees streaming from the 
mouth of the child the bright light, which, incircling the 
head of Servius Tullius, betokened the future greatness 
of the son of the slave Ocresia, and as it gleamed round 
the head of Asklepios, warned the shepherd Aristhanas 
that he saw before him a divine child. Havelok is thus 
recognised by Grrim as the son of King Birkabeyn, and the 
fisherman, to avoid the wrath of Godard, hastens away from 
Denmark, and takes up his abode in the town which bears 
his name in England. But what is Havelok to do in the 
new land ? His preserver is poor, he himself is meanly 
clad and without friends, and so, when he reaches Lincoln 
in search of work, he becomes the scullion-boy in Earl 
Godric's kitchen. In other words, he is now the poor 
despised Boots, lying, like Cinderella, among the ashes, 
and jeered at by those who are really his inferiors, like 
the Prettyhands of the Arthur tale. But as in the Gaelic 
legend the Great Fool is still the one to whom hosts yield, 
and it is he alone who is destined to be the husband of 
the young Fairfine, so Havelok alone can win the queenly 



72 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

daughter of iEthelwald ; and even thus it comes to pass, 
that at the games held by Earl Godric the kitchen 
boy distances all his competitors in a way which renders 
all thought of coping with him impossible. The will of 
Zeus is being accomplished. Grodric sees in the victory 
of the scullion-lad an opportunity for humiliating Gold- 
borough. He has promised her father that he will wed 
her to the strongest man, and he will keep his word. 
The marriage is accordingly celebrated, and Goldborough 
finds herself in the hovel of Havelok with a feeling of dis- 
gust equal to that of the princess who in the Norse and 
G-erman stories marries King Thrushbeard or King Hacon 
G-rizzlebeard in their disguise as beggars. But like Grim, 
Goldborough sees at night the flame which streams from 
Havelok's mouth, and she hears an angel say that she is 
wife of the man who is to be king of Denmark. Havelok 
on waking says that he too has seen a vision which assured 
him that he was to sit upon King Birkabeyn's throne ; 
and with his wife and the three sons of Grrim he sets 
sail from England to fight for and to win back his in- 
heritance. In Denmark his might is at once proved by 
the destruction of sixty-one thieves, who, when they assail 
the house where he is sojourning, are all slain by him and 
the three sons of Grim. The next night Ubbe his host 
sees a great light streaming from his chamber, and going 
in, he beholds what Grrim and Goldborough had beheld 
before him. The sequel of the story tells us of the dis- 
comfiture and death of Godard in Denmark and Godric in 
England, and the romance ends with a period of repose as 
profound as that which marks the close of the Odyssey, 
and thus the whole myth resolves itself into elements 
found throughout the wide range of all Aryan Mythology. 
But the English story of Havelok does not stand by 
itself. In the French poem, put together probably about 
The loves of the time of Henry the Second, the heroine is 

Ar^entile 

and curan. not Goldborough, but Argentile, a name which 



Introdtiction. J 3 

looks as mere a translation as the Gaelic Fairfine from 
the Greek Chryseis, — and Havelok has become Havelok 
Cuaran. Here then we have the story of the loves of Ar- 
gentile and Curan, one of the narratives in Warner's poem 
intitled Albion's England, in which Curan, in order to 
win Argentile, becomes a scullion in the household of 
Ethil, who compels her to marry him from the same mo- 
tives which led Godric to insist that Goldborough should 
wed Havelok. If we ask what or who is Curan, we are 
carried to the Danish hero whom the Angles called Anlaf- 
cwiran, and we are put on a track which ends in the iden- 
tification of the name Anlaf with that of Havelok, whose 
story, as furnishing groundwork for the claim of the 
Danes through him to England, is connected with the 
myth of Guy of Warwick. The chronicles cited by Sir 
F. Madden give to the Kings of Denmark and Norway, 
who bring over Colbrand, the names Anelaphus and Con- 
elaphus : in the metrical romance of Gruy of Warwick 
these names appear in the forms Hanelocke and Con- 
elocke, while the MS. English chronicle Harl. 63, referred 
to by SirF. Madden, speaks of the Danes who 'had 
claimed before by the title of King Havelocke that 
wedded Goldesburghe, the King's daughter of Nor- 
thumbr' ' 

But Havelok further presents a link with the saga of 
Beowulf, as bearing a name which is only a modification 
of that of Higelac, one of the heroes of that myth. Havelok and 
Whether this name is further to be identified Hamlet - 
with the Danish Chochilaichus of Gregory of Tours, is a 
question which has an interest only in so far as it may 
tend to prove that the names of historical persons have 
found their way into popular legends, — a position which 
no comparative mythologist will be tempted to dispute, 
but which really adds nothing to the stock of our histori- 
cal knowledge. But when we find the name Anlaf, Ane- 
laph, Hanelocke, in the Latinized Amlethus, we are 



74 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

brought at once to a name familiar in all English ears ; 
and Hamlet is seen to stand to Havelok in the relation 
of cloth to cloak, and we are compelled to ask what stories 
are told of Hamlet beside that which has been told by 
Shakespeare. Without venturing further into the province 
which Dr. Latham has made his own, and in which it is 
to be hoped that we may see more abundant fruits of his 
learning, I may here remark that on the very face of the 
Shakespearian play we have the same myth repeated more 
than once, while none will dispute the fact that other 
versions of the drama existed before Shakespeare took 
the subject in hand. This undisputed fact is all that is 
needed for our present purpose, for the pre-eminent 
genius of Shakespeare is no more questioned than that of 
the poets who put into their present shape our Iliad 
and Odyssey. . If we look into the incidents of Shakes- 
peare's play, we find, apart from the connexion of 
Denmark with England which marks the story of 
Havelok and Grrim, that the method of Hamlet's death 
agrees precisely with that of his father. The latter is 
poisoned while sleeping in his orchard of an afternoon, 
and the ghost tells Hamlet that the false report given out 
to cover his uncle's guilt is that he had been stung by a 
serpent ; but in either case, whether by accident or other- 
wise, we have the features common to a thousand mythical 
stories, — the snake which appears in the myths of Eury- 
dike and Arthur, the poison which plays a part in many a 
story of Dawn-maidens, the orchard with the apples which 
gleam in the garden of the Hesperides, the afternoon slum- 
ber into which Endymion sinks in the land of Latmos. 

Another salient feature in Shakespeare's drama is the 
constraint put upon Hamlet by the tyrant who has 
Hamiet and usurped his father's throne ; but this state of 
his uncie. bondage, in which the greater is made to serve 
the less, is the very groundwork of half the myths which 
tell of the toil of the Sun for the benefit of the mean thing 



Introduction. 75 

called man. It is the subordination of Achilleus and Aga- 
memnon, of Herakles to Eurystheus, of Perseus to Polydek- 
tes. But still more noteworthy is the narrative of Ophelia's 
death, who, like the Valkyrie, sings her swan song in her 
last hours, and who from her melodious lay is pulled down 
to muddy death. To say the least, there is a strange cor- 
respondence between this tale and the Cretan myth about 
Helene Dendritis, which tells us how Helen was surprised 
while bathing, and hung up to a tree. 1 

1 Aryan Mythology, ii. 157. When we remember that Ikaros is a son of 

Daidalos, the cunning workman who shapes the labyrinth of the clouds in 

the heavens, we can scarcely fail to connect the-myths of Ophelia and Helen 

■ with that of Maira, who hangs herself on a tree from grief for the loss of 

Ikaros who lies buried beneath it. 

The pre-Shakespearian German version of Hamlet calls for special atten- 
tion from those who are interested in ascertaining the nature of the materials 
on which Shakespeare worked. With the points of likeness in the phraseo- 
logy of the two dramas we are not here concerned ; but I cannot pass in 
silence a passage which has been pointed out to me by Dr. Latham, as evi- 
dently connected with a myth of Artemis, in which the giant ' Ephialtes, like 
Ixion, seeks to win Here while Otos follows Artemis, who in the form of a 
stag so runs between the brothers that they, aiming at her at the same time, 
kill each other.' — Aryan Mythology, ii. 254. — In tlie German Hamlet, the 
prince lands on an island where he proposes to dine and rest, and is there 
told by two ruffians who have sided with him that he must die, as they have 
orders to put him to death. Having vainly in treated mercy, he prevails on 
them to let him have a few minutes for prayer, and then to aim each a 
pistol at his two sides, — promising to give them the signal for firing. When 
he does this, he falls forward, and the ruffians shoot each other. On the 
body of one of them he finds a letter bidding the King of England put 
Hamlet to death, if he should live to reach the island — a point of connexion 
with the story of Bellerophon. In Snorro Hamlet lives in the kitchen, like 
other heroes of whom the familiar model is Boots. 

For these remarks on Hamlet, I am indebted to the kindness of Dr. 
Latham; and I acknowledge my debt with the more gratitude, inasmuch 
as his inquiries have been instituted for purely historical purposes. It has 
been his object to ascertain how far Hamlet belongs to a family which 
existed in history : and the result of his search is that almost every name 
with which he is connected is the subject of myths of which it is impossible 
not to see the identity with the myths of other branches of the Aryan 
race. 

For myself I may add that I have carefully abstained from meddling 
with the plays of Shakespeare, feeling that the task must be left to those 



J 6 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

^\ 7 hen we go further back in the mythical genealogy of 
Hamlet, we find ourselves amongst a crowd of beings whose 
The gene- names are as transparent as those of Asterodia, 
Hamiet. Asteropaios, Narkissos, Aethlios, Selene, Chryseis, 
or Fairfine. We need go no further than the story of his 
father Orendil, or Aurentil, who reappears in the lay of 
Ghidrunas Hjarrandi, the being who like Orpheus, Amphiou, 
Hermes, or Pan can charm all men with his sweet sounds, 
and whose name probably denotes nothing more than the 
nearing ear (ohr, auris). But Orendil is one of the three 
sons of Oygel, King of Treves, who with a slight change 
of name appears as Eigil, 1 a counterpart of Tell, the shoot- 
ing god, and is possibly the same as the Higelac of Beowulf. 
Like his son Havelok, Orendil can wed but one woman in 
the world, and she is Queen of Jerusalem ; but when he sets 
sail in search of her, the fleet is held wind-bound for three 
years in the Kleber-meer, another Aulis, until the Vir- 
gin hears his prayer and lets them go, as Artemis at last 
sent a breeze to waft the Achaians to Ilion. The sequel 
of the story is a strange jumble of images drawn from 
many myths. The fleet is wrecked when within sight of 

•who care to ascertain the nature and state of the materials on which he 
worked. That some of his plays contain mythical elements is a proposition 
which few will venture to dispute. Whether Othello may hereafter be found 
to come within their number, is a point on which I do not speak, but for 
which I am prepared to weigh such evidence as may be alleged; nor can I 
suffer myself to be frightened from this judicial impartiality by the de- 
claration of the Edinburgh Reviewer. {Edinburgh Review, October, 1870, 
p. 347, &e.) The fact that the reviewer has studiously kept out of sight 
the evidence for the conclusions reached by comparative mythologists, 
and has represented the few illustrations adduced in my introductory 
chapters as the sum total of all the evidence producible on the subject, 
and actually cited at length in the later chapters of the work, may 
perhaps justify an expression of grave regret ; but I will content myself 
with asserting that his criticism from beginning to end has been met and 
summarily refuted by Mr. Tylor in the chapters on Mythology in his work 
on Primitive Culture, and that nothing has been said to shake conclusions 
which stand on a basis as sure as the results of comparative philology. 
1 Aryan Mythology, ii. 100. 



Introduction. jj 

the Holy Sepulchre, and none escape but Orendil, who, 
becoming servant to a fisherman, catches a whale in the 
body of which is a grey coat. Although he wishes earn- 
estly to possess this coat and it is offered for sale at a very low 
price, he cannot meet the cost : but when any one else tries 
to put it on, the garment splits. When Orendil dons it, it 
not only becomes as good as new, but makes him invulner- 
able, — a myth which recalls not only the stories of Medeia 
and Nessos, but more especially those of Arthur, Balin, 
Lancelot, Tristram, and Gralahad. The coat which will 
suffer only one man to put it on is but the sword which 
will yield only to one man's touch ; and the scabbard of 
Excalibur possesses precisely the power of the grey coat 
of making its owner invulnerable. Henceforth Orendil 
bears the name Grraurock, the man with the grey or 
gleaming robe. 1 In a tournament, in which he next 
takes part, he has to borrow a horse, and he is miraculously 
provided with golden spurs, and like Ahmed, the Pil- 
grim of Love, in the Spanish legend, he is of course the 
conqueror. The betrothal of Orendil with Queen Bride is 
followed by a war for the conquest of Jerusalem in which 
he outdoes Grettir or Samson or Herakles or Eustem, by 
slaying single-handed sixteen thousand men, and by other 
exploits scarcely less marvellous. At length an angel 
forewarns Orendil and his bride of the hour in which they 
must die, and when that time has come, they are borne 
away to heaven. The grey frock becomes, it is scarcely 
necessary to say, the holy coat of Treves, where Orendil's 
father had been king. 

Through Higelac, the Wsegmunding, the romance of 
Beowulf is connected with that of Havelok, as through 
the myth of Sceaf it is connected with that of Arthur. 2 

1 The word denotes strictly not subdued but dazzling light. It is the 
G-laukos of the Sarpedon myth, and Athene is Grlaukopis, the maiden with 
the flashing face. 

2 A further point of connexion is furnished by the name of King Birka- 



78 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Thesaeaof The saga itself is pre-eminent among the 
3f^£^~-' legends which describe the struggle of light 
__with darkness. Grendel is the gloomy demon in one 
of his most awful forms ; and we see in him the mon- 
strous Sphinx who strikes terror into the citizens oi 
Thebes, the robber Cacus who breathes fire from his 
nostrils, the giant Eavana who steals away the beautiful 
Sita, or any other of the fearful beings who find their 
prototype in the thievish Panis, and in Ahi, the throttling 
snake, who can be slain only by the sun-god Indra. 
When Grendel is killed, his fearful mother, the devil's 
dam, comes to avenge his death, but the second struggle, 
in which Beowulf is conqueror, is but a reflexion of the 
first : and both are repeated in the later encounter with 
the great dragon, which, like Vritra and the Panis, like 
Fafnir and Python, keeps guard over his priceless 
treasures — the treasures of light and life, which he hides 
away greedily beneath the earth. Like Hamlet, again, 
like Havelok and Tristram and Herakles and Achilleus, 
Beowulf reaps no great harvest of his toil, although the 
king for whom he works is a more kindly master than 
Eurystheus. But in death as well as in life, Beowulf is 
but a counterpart of the great son of Alkmene. The 
latter died by the blood of the Kentaur Nessos, whom he 
had smitten to death ; the former dies by the blood of 
the fiery dragon which he has slain. The venomed drops 

beyn, who is here the father of Havelok, and in the French poem is the 
father of Havelok Curan. Of the word Birkabeyn, Dr. Latham says that 
is ; no true proper name ; neither is it Danish so much as Norwegian. It 
is, however, a truly historical term, the period of the Birkebeins being a 
well marked period in Norwegian politics.' These Berkabeyns seem to have 
appeared in the latter part of the twelfth century, the popular explanation 
being that the men to whom the name was given had to flee from their 
enemies into the forests, where, when their clothes were worn out, they 
wound the bark of the birch tree about their legs, and thus became known 
as Birkebeiners. See Dr. Latham's very valuable and learned paper on 
Havelok the Dane, Transactions of the Eoyal Society of Literature, vol. vii. 
new series. 



Introduction. 79 

which remain on his hands bnrn and swell, until the 
poison courses through his limbs, and rages fiercely in his 
breast. It is the same great tragedy of nature in which 
we see the death agonies of Herakles on his funeral pile 
on Oita ; and as to the mighty son of Zeus there yet 
remained a solace in the beautiful face and glowing form 
of Iole, so in the more sombre and less refined northern 
legend Beowulf asks to look again upon the choice 
treasures which he has won for the people before his eyes 
are closed in death, and thus, having feasted once more 
on the dazzling vision of golden cups and jewelled brace- 
lets and gleaming coffers, he hastens from the land of the 
living to the unseen regions, whither the Wsegmundings 
have gone before him. It may seem but a barbaric 
vision : yet the splendour which soothes the eye of the 
dying hero is but the brilliance of the golden doors and 
brazen stringcourses, the youths of gold holding up ever- 
lasting torches, which shed their dazzling lustre on the 
palace of Alkinoos. So far as the conceptions differ, the 
contrast is but the result of impressions made by the 
phenomena of sunset on the mind of the Teuton beneath 
his harsher sky, and of the Greek in his more genial 
home. 1 

Whatever be the value of the romances contained in 
this volume as works of art (and if some rise to high 
merit, none are despicable), the scrutiny to General re- 
which they have now been submitted leaves, I inquiry, 
venture to think, no room for any reasonable doubt as to 
the origin and nature of the materials out of which they 
have been shaped. The processes by which they have 

1 The date at \shich the epic of Beowulf was composed is uncertain. It 
exists in a single manuscript of the tenth century. — Craik, History of Eng- 
lish Literature, i. 57. — But, in truth, the question of the date at- which the 
romance assumed its present shape is one of but slight importance, when the 
materials of which it is composed are seen to be common elements in a wide 
family of traditions spread throughout the Aryan tribes, and perhaps 
beyond them. 



8o Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

been brought into their present form may seem to be 
somewhat monotonous : yet it may very safely be asserted 
that the keenness with which we may spy out repetitions, 
or trace the substantial identity of any given story with 
other tales with which, at first sight, it might seem to 
have little in common, will detract nothing from the 
charm of the tales themselves. Rather, it may be said 
that our knowledge of the source whence the stream flows 
will add indefinitely to the interest with which we trace 
its wanderings, until by the confluence of its tributary 
waters it swells. into the great ocean of national epic 
poetry, while incidents, which, regarded as events in the 
lives of human beings, must appear absurd, or impos- 
sible, or disgusting, will not unfrequently be invested 
with a touching truth and beauty. To the most eager 
lover of these stories as stories I feel that I can have 
done no wrong by showing that, like the great epic poems 
of Greeks, Hindus, and Teutons, these romances are, as I 
have already maintained and must emphatically repeat, 
' simply different versions of the same story, and that this 
story has its origin in the phenomena of the natural 
world, and the course of the day and the year.' ! 

Gr. W. C. 

1 Aryan Mythology, i. 151. 



8i 



THE STORY OF KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS. 
CHAPTEE I. 

THE CROWNING OF ARTHUR. 

Uther Pendragon lay sick with, love and sorrow, for 
the lady Igerne would not hearken to the words which 
he had spoken to her, and she had gone away with her 
husband Grorlois, the Duke of Cornwall, who placed her in 
the castle of Tintagil, in the Cornish land, while he shut 
himself up in another castle called Dimilioc. When the 
knight Ulfin saw that his lord Uther was sick, he asked 
what ailed him ; and when he knew that the king longed for 
the love of Igerne, he went to the wise Merlin who knew 
the things that were to come ; and Merlin promised that 
the king should have his heart's desire. So he brought 
it about that Uther went to the castle of Tintagil in the 
likeness of Grorlois, who had just been slain behind the 
battlements of Dimilioc; and Igerne welcomed Uther, 
thinking that in very truth her husband stood before her. 

On the next day the tidings came to Igerne that her 
husband had been slain three hours before Uther entered 
the gates of Dimilioc ; and she marvelled who it might be 
that had come to her in the guise of her lord. But soon 
there came messengers from Uther who told her of the 
love which the king bare to her, and Igerne became the 
queen of the land. 

When the time drew near that her child should be 
born, Merlin the sage came to the king and asked that 

G 



82 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

the babe should be given to him at the postern gate of 
the palace unchristened. And the king promised, and so 
when the child was born, it was wrapped in cloth of gold 
and given to Merlin, who placed it in the hands of a true 
and faithful man named Sir Ector : and Sir Ector's wife 
nourished the babe, until after a great fight at St. Albans 
Uther Pendragon came back to London, and there fell sick 
unto death. But before he died, he charged his nobles 
and great men that they should make Arthur king in his 
stead. Howbeit, when he was dead, many strove to be 
chosen king, and the Bishop of Canterbury bade that all 
the lords of the realm should come up to London at 
Christmas on pain of cursing. So at Christmastide, they 
were gathered together in the great church ; and when the 
mass was done, there was seen in the churchyard against 
the high altar a great stone four square, and in the midst 
was like an anvil of steel, and therein was stuck a fair 
sWord, naked by the point, and about the sword there 
were written letters in gold which said, ' Whoso pulleth 
this sword out of this stone and anvil is rightwise born 
King of all England.' 

But of all the lords there was not one who could move 
the sword ; and the bishop said, ' He is not here that 
shall draw out the sword, but doubt not God will make 
him known.' Then by his counsel ten knights were 
named to guard the stone ; but though they kept watch 
day by day, none came who could pull out the weapon. 
At the last Sir Ector journeyed to London with his son 
Sir Kay, and with them went Arthur his foster-brother. 
As they went on their road, Sir Kay perceived that he 
had left his sword at home, and prayed Arthur to hasten 
back and fetch it. But when Arthur reached the house, 
there was none within, for all were gone to see the justing. 
Then in his wrath he said within himself, ' I will ride to 
the churchyard and take the sword that is fixed in the 
stone, for my brother shall not lack a sword this day.' 



Arthur and his Knights, &$ 

So Arthur hastened to the churchyard, and found no 
knights there, for they too were gone to the justs ; and 
when he seized the sword, it came out of the stone lightly 
at his touch, and he carried it to Sir Kay, who took it to 
his father and said, < Here is the sword of the stone, and 
I must be king of the land.' But his father took him 
into the church and made him say before the altar how 
he came by the sword ; and so it was made known that 
Arthur had drawn it forth. Then said Ector, ' Arthur 
must be king of the land, if he can place the sword back 
again where it was and once more draw it forth.' So 
Arthur placed the sword again in the stone, and when 
Ector strove to pull it out, he could not do so, neither 
could Sir Kay ; but whenever Arthur touched it, it came 
forth lightly as a feather. Then knelt Sir Ectoi before 
his foster child, and said, 6 Now know I that thou art of 
an higher blood than I had thought; and therefore it 
was that Merlin brought thee to me.' But Arthur was 
grieved when he learnt that Sir Ector was not indeed his 
father nor Ector's wife his mother. 

Yet for all this the lords strove that Arthur should not 
be king, for they held it shame to be governed by a boy 
of no high blood born ; and thus, though all failed to pull 
out the sword, yet from Twelfth-day to Candlemas, from 
Candlemas till the high feast of Easter, and from Easter 
till Pentecost, they put off the crowning of Arthur ; but 
at Pentecost, when still Arthur alone was able to draw 
forth the sword, the people cried out all, ' We will have 
Arthur for our king. It is the will of Grod.' So was Arthur 
crowned, and he sware to keep the laws and deal true 
justice between man and man, and he redressed all the 
wrongs that had been done throughout the land since 
the days of King Uther. Then Arthur made his foster- 
brother seneschal of England, and Sir Baldwin was made 
constable, and Sir UlfTn chamberlain : and the people 

G 2 



84 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

loved their king, and evil-doers feared him because of his 
might and his righteousness. 

Not long after this, Arthur held high feast at Caerleon, 1 
and thither hastened chieftains from Lothian and Orkney, 
from Grower and Carados, and to them Arthur sent pre- 
cious gifts. But the kings evil-intreated the messengers 
who bare them., and bade them go back and say that they 
would have no gifts of a beardless boy that was come of 
low blood, but that they were coming to give him gifts of 
hard blows between the shoulders. Then Arthur shut 
himself up with five hundred knights in a great tower, 
to which the kings laid siege, though Merlin the sage 
warned them that they could not withstand the might of 
Arthur. But they laughed him to scorn, and said, ' Shall 
we be afraid of a dream-reader ? ' Then Merlin vanished 
from among them, and came to Arthur and bade him set 
on fiercely, but not to use the sword which he had got by 
miracle, unless he should be sore pressed. So forthwith 
Arthur came down upon them and there was a fierce 
battle, until at last the Chief of Lothian smote down the 
king ; and the king drew his sword, which flashed in the 
eyes of his enemies like the blaze of thirty torches, and at 
each stroke of the sword a man died, till the kings fled 
with the knights that were left alive, and Merlin coun- 
selled Arthur to follow them no further, but to send 
messengers to King Ban of Berwick and King Bors of 

1 Of the geography of the Arthur romance it may be said that the com- 
parative mythologist who has ascertained that the story with which he deals 
has its origin in the phenomena of cloudland will be disposed to spend 
little time on the profitless task of inquiring whether towns and hamlets 
bearing historical names have been rightly placed or not. All that Sir 
Henry Strachey can say -on this subject is that " the geography of Arthur's 
Roman war is very coherent ; but that of the rest of the book it is often 
impossible to harmonise." (Morte d' Arthur, xi.) In all likelihood the 
episode of the Eoman war was put together by some one familiar with the 
imperial tradition which English kings were pleased to maintain from the 
days of Ecgberht onwards. — Freeman, Norman Conquest, i. 158, et seq. ; 
Edinburgh Review, July 1869, p. 188. 



Arthtcr and his Knights. 85 

Graul, promising that he would aid them in their wars 
against King Claudas if they would help him against the 
Kings of Lothian and Orkney and their friends.. So 
King Ban and King Bors came ; and the six kings who 
had fled away from Arthur got five other kings to join 
with them under an oath that they should not leave each 
other till they should have slain Arthur, who was now in 
the castle of Bedegraine in the forest of Sherwood. Thi- 
ther hastened the eleven kings with their men, and there 
was fierce fighting in which King Ban and King Bors 
wrought mightily for the king, and Arthur himself smote 
on until of threescore thousand he had left but fifteen 
thousand alive, so that Merlin rebuked him and said, 
' Grod is wroth with thee that thou wilt never have done, 
for yonder eleven kings cannot be overthrown now ; but 
go now whither thou mayest list for they shall not lift 
hand against thee for three years.' 

When Merlin was now gone to his master Blaise who 
dwelt in Northumberland, and wrote down all that befell 
King Arthur, there came the daughter of Earl Sanam, to 
do homage, as others did after the great battle; and 
Arthur set his love upon the damsel, and she became the 
mother of Borre, who was afterward a good knight of 
the Eound Table. Then Arthur rode to Caerleon, and 
thither came the wife of the King of Orkney with her four 
sons, Grawaine, Graheris, Agravaineand Grareth; and she was 
the sister of Arthur, though he knew it not, for she was 
the daughter of Igerne ; and she was so fair that the 
king cast great love upon her also. But withal there 
came heavy dreams which made him sad at heart, and 
when by and by he rode long after a strange beast, and 
then rested by a fountain, a knight came and took away 
the king's horse ; and while one went to fetch it back, 
Merlin stood before the king, like a child fourteen years 
old, and told him that Uther and Igerne were his father 
and his mother. But Arthur laughed the child to scorn, 



86 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

and Merlin vanished, and came again in the Form of a man 
fourscore years old, and told him the same words. 
Further he said, ' (rod is displeased with you for the deed 
ye have done of late, and thy sister's child shall destroy 
you and all the knights of your realm.' 

Then Arthur sent for Igerne, for he said, < If she too 
says that I am her child, I shall believe it ; ' and when 
she came with her daughter Morgan le Fay, Ulfin charged 
her with treason, because she had not spoken the truth 
from the first, and because Arthur's lords had withstood 
him, not knowing whose son he was, and because they 
would not be ruled by a base-born boy. Then Igerne 
told all the story, how, when the child was born, Uther 
bade that it should be given to Merlin, and how she 
never saw the babe again, or wot what had become of 
him ; and Ector also told how he had received the child at 
Merlin's hands, and nourished him by the king's command. 
Then Arthur took his mother in his arms and kissed her, 
and they wept on each other for the greatness of their 

j°y- 

After this, there came from the Emperor of Eome 
twelve knights who asked of Arthur homage for his 
realm ; and the king answered that because they were 
messengers they should live, and bade them tell their 
master that he would give him homage on a fair field with 
a sharp spear and a sharp sword. So the messengers de- 
parted ; and as Arthur rode away he came to a place 
where a knight stood who suffered none to pass unless 
they first crossed spears with him. Then was there a long 
and fierce fight between them, until the knight smote 
Arthur's sword in two pieces, and sware to slay him 
unless he would yield himself as conquered. 6 Death is 
welcome,' said Arthur, ' when it comes ; but as for 
yielding to thee, I would rather die than be so shamed ; ' 
and therewith rushing on the knight he seized him by the 
middle and threw him down, and took away his helmet. 



Arthur and his Knights. , 87 

Yet was not the knight overcome, albeit he was sore dis- 
mayed ; and he had well nigh slain Arthur, when Merlin 
came and bade him stay his hand. ' This knight,' he said 
6 is a man of more worship than thou deemest.' ' Why, 
who is he ? ' said the knight. When Merlin said that it 
was King Arthur, the knight would have slain him forth- 
with because he feared his anger ; but Merlin cast a spell 
upon him so that he fell to the earth in a great sleep. 
Then was Arthur wroth because he thought that Merlin 
had slain the brave knight ; but the sage said, ' Fear not, 
he shall rise up again in three hours : and this knight, 
whose name is Pellinore, shall have two sons, Percivale 
and Lamorak, who shall be good men and true, and he 
shall tell you the name of your sister's son, that shall 
bring ruin to all this realm.' 

Then with Merlin Arthur went to the abode of an her- 
mit, who was also a great healer of men, and in three 
days he was healed of the wounds which Pellinore had 
given. But when he would go further, he said to Merlin, 
' 1 have no sword ; ' and Merlin answered that he should 
have one by and by ; and presently they came to a lake 
in the midst of which an arm was seen rising from the 
water, and bearing a sword aloft. ' Yonder,' said Merlin, 
6 is the sword of which I spake, and yonder is the Lady of 
the Lake, whose is that sword. Speak fair to her when 
she comes to you, that she may give it you.' Then 
after kindly greeting, Arthur besought her for the sword, 
and the maiden said, ' If thou wilt give me a gift when I 
ask for it, it shall be thine.' So the king sware unto her, 
and the maiden bade him row himself in a barge that lay 
near, and take the sword with its scabbard ; and when 
Arthur laid his hand upon it, the hand that bare it up 
went under the water. On their way back they saw a rich 
pavilion, and when Arthur knew from Merlin that 
Pellinore lay within it, Arthur would have tried his new 
sword in fight with him ; but Merlin said that so it must 



88 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

not be, and that hereafter the king would be right glad to 
give to Pellinore his sister for a wife. 'But which likest 
thou the better ' asked Merlin, ' the sword or the scab- 
bard?' And Arthur said, ' The sword.' ' Ye are unwise,' 
answered the sage, c for the scabbard is worth ten of the 
sword, for while ye have the scabbard upon you ye shall 
never lose blood, though thy wounds be never so sore ; 
wherefore see that you keep the scabbard always with 
you.' 

Then went Arthur to Caerleon ; and thither came 
messengers from King Eyons, who said, 'Eleven kings 
have done me homage, and with their beards I have 
trimmed a mantle. Send me now thy beard, for there 
lacks yet one to the finishing of my mantle.' Then 
answered Arthur and said, ' Gro tell your master my beard 
is full young yet to make a trimming of it ; but yet a 
little while, and he shall do me homage on his knees.' 

Now Merlin had told the king that he who should 
destroy him should be born on May-day. Therefore 
Arthur charged that all the children born of lords and 
ladies on that day should be brought to him ; and they 
were placed in a ship, and Mordred, the child of the wife 
of the King of Orkney, was sent with them. But the 
ship was driven against a castle, and broken in pieces, and 
all died save Mordred, whom a good man took up and 
nourished till he was fourteen years old. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE STORY OF BALIN AND BALAN. 

Now it came to pass that while Arthur with his lords and 
knights tarried at Camelot, a damsel brought a message 
from the great Lady Lile of Avilion ; and as she stood 
before the king she let fall her mantle, that was richly 



Arthur and his Knights. 89 

furred, and she was seen to be girt with a noble sword. 
Then the king marvelled greatly, and asked wherefore 
she, being a maiden, was thus girt with a sword. And 
the maiden said that the weapon gave her great sorrow 
and cumbrance, and that she could not be freed from the 
sword save by a good and true man without villainy and 
without treason. She told, moreover, how she had been 
at the court of King Eyons, and how no knight there was 
able to take the sword from her side. Then spake the 
king, ' I say not that I am the best knight, but I will 
essay to draw the sword, that at the least I may give an 
example to my barons.' But, though he strove mightily, 
the sword would not out, and the maiden said, ' Ye need 
not pull hard ; the man that shall pull it out shall do it 
•with little might.' But neither were any of the barons 
who stood round able to draw it forth ; and the damsel 
took leave of the king to go upon her way. As she went, 
there stood before her a poor knight, named Balin, clad 
in a homely garment ; and he had been prisoner half-a- 
year and more because he had slain a knight who was 
cousin to the king. But although he had been delivered 
out of prison, yet, for the poorness of his raiment, he 
would not put himself far in the throng, though, in his 
heart, he was sure that, if the chance were given to him, 
he could do as well as any knight that then was. At 
the first the damsel would not hearken to his prayer ; 
but Balin bade her remember that righteousness lies not 
in a man's vesture, and that many a good man is not 
known unto all people. So she suffered him to try, and 
at his touch the sword came from her side, and she said, 
'This is the best knight that ever I found ; he shall do 
many good deeds.' Then she asked Balin to give her 
back the sword again ; and when he would not yield it 
up, she said, 'Ye are not wise to keep the sword, for with 
it thou shalt slay thy best friend, and it shall be thy ruin.' 
So she went her way heavy and sorrowful. 



90 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Then would Balin go on his also, although the king 
sought to stay him because he had done him wrong; 
and Arthur besought him that at the least, if he went, 
he would not tarry away long. But while Balin was 
making ready to depart, the Lady of the Lake came to 
demand of the king the gift which he promised to her 
when she gave him the sword Excalibur; and when 
Arthur bade her say what she would have, she desired the 
head of the maiden who had brought the sword to Balin, 
or the head of Balin himself. But when the knight 
heard this he went up to the lady and straightway smote 
off her head. Then was Arthur full of wrath, nor would 
he be soothed, although Balin told him she had destroyed 
many good knights, and had caused his mother to be 
burnt by her lies. And the king charged Balin to go 
from his court. So Balin went to his squire, and bade 
him bear the head to Northumberland, and tell his friends 
there that his worst foe was dead, and that he himself 
was out of prison. But the squire mourned that his 
master had displeased the \mg ; and Balin said that he 
would go forth and do battle with King Eyons, so that 
Arthur might be gracious to him again if he came back 
conqueror. 

But while the king was yet wroth with him, a knight 
named Lanceor besought Arthur that he might go after 
Balin and quite him for the despite which he had done 
in slaying the lady. Then, at Arthur's bidding, Lanceor, 
the Knight of Ireland, rode hastily after Balin, and chal- 
lenged him to deadly combat, though Balin would fain 
have journeyed on in peace. But Lanceor would not let 
him go ; and when they fought together the Knight of 
Ireland was slain. Presently a maiden came riding by, 
and when she saw the knight lying dead, she cried aloud 
for her anguish, and said, ' Balin, thou hast slain two 
bodies and one heart, and two hearts in one body, and 
two souls hast thou lost ! ' And with these words she 



Arthur and his Knights. 91 

took the sword from her dead lover's hand and passed 
it through her own heart. Great was Balin's grief when 
he saw the twain lie dead together ; but as in his sorrow 
he looked towards a great forest, he saw coming towards 
him his brother Balan, who first rejoiced to see Balin, 
and then mourned for the evil plight in which he found 
him. 'Let us go hence,' said Balin, when he had told 
him all the tale. ' King Eyons lays siege to the castle 
Dimilioc, and by slaying him I trust to win back the 
king's grace.' But not far had they gone, when they met 
a dwarf who came from the city of Camelot, and who, 
on hearing what had happened, told Balin that by slaying 
Lanceor he had done great damage to himself. ' Trust 
me,' he said, 'the kin of this knight will chase you 
through the world till they have slain you.' ' I fear not 
greatly for that,' answered Balin, ' but I grieve that I 
have displeased the king.' 

There, on the spot where the knight Lanceor died and 
the maiden whom he loved slew herself, King Mark of 
Cornwall raised a fair tomb, and placed their bodies 
within it; and then Merlin told King Mark that the 
greatest battle should be fought that ever was or shall 
be betwixt the truest lovers, and yet neither of the 
knights should slay the other, and these should be Lan- 
celot du Lake and Tristram. And to Balin Merlin said, 
' Because thou hast slain this maiden, thou shalt strike a 
stroke the most dolorous that ever man struck, except 
the stroke of our Lord, for thou shalt hurt the truest 
knight that now lives, and bring three kingdoms into 
misery for twelve years.' After these words Merlin 
vanished away, and Bang Mark said to Balin, ' Tell me 
thy name.' Then said Balan, ' Ye see that he beareth 
two swords, and the Knight of the Two Swords you may 
call him.' But as the brothers rode away together, 
Merlin again came to them, and made them lie hidden 
in a wood among leaves beside the highway, that so they 



92 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

might fall upon King Eyons as he passed by. So when 
at midnight he came with threescore of his best knights, 
they slew his horsemen, and carried Eyons away, and 
gave him in charge to the porters of King Arthur. But 
Merlin hastened on before them to tell the king that his 
worst foe was taken. 'By whom?' asked the king. 
6 By two knights whose names thou shalt know on the 
morrow.' And on the morrow, when Arthur learnt that 
it was Balin with his brother Balan who had done him 
this service, he said that he had ill-deserved the kindness. 
' He shall do yet more for thee,' said Merlin, ' for the 
brother of Ryons is even now at hand with a great host 
to do battle with thee to the death.' 

In the fight which then came off the two brothers did 
wondrously ; and the brother of King Eyons was worsted 
with all his host, because Merlin held back the King of 
Orkney and his people with a tale of prophecy, till the 
battle was well nigh done. And when at length the 
King of Orkney came to the fight, he was slain by Sir 
Pellinore, on whom Sir Oawaine, the king's son, ten years 
afterwards avenged his father's death. Twelve kings were 
killed in this battle: and for them Arthur made twelve 
tombs, each with an image holding a waxen taper, which 
Merlin said should burn no more when he was dead. 
Then the wise man charged the king to keep needfully 
the scabbard of Excalibur, because he should lose no blood 
while he had this scabbard about him. So for great 
trust he took it to his sister Morgan le Fay : but Morgan 
loved another knight named Accolon better than Arthur 
or her husband Uriens, and to him she gave the scabbard 
of Excalibur while she made another like it for her brother 
by inchantments. 

Not many days after this, as Arthur lay sick in his tent, 
there passed by a knight in great sorrow, who gave no 
heed though the king strove to comfort him. Then 
Arthur bade Balin go and bring back the sorrowful 



Arthur and his Knights. 93 

knight ; and when Balin came up to him, the knight 
promised to do as he desired, if Balin would be his 
warrant. So Balin sware to him ; but for all this the 
knight was slain by the hand of one whom none might 
see ; and as he fell he said, ' This is the deed of Grarlon.' 
Then as Balin rode onward with the damsel who had 
loved the dead knight, and with another knight Perin of 
Montbeliard, the hand of Grarlon unseen smote again and 
Perin fell dead : and Balin went on with the damsel 
alone, till they came to a castle, where the men seized the 
maiden and would not let her go till she had bled a 
silver dish full for the lady of the place, who was sick and 
who could in no other wise be healed, even as it befell after- 
wards the sister of Sir Percivale in the story of the 
Sangreal. 

Yet a few days after this, Balin was lodged in the 
house of a man whose son had been smitten by the in- 
visible knight, and could not be healed till he had 
drunk of that knight's blood. Then said Balin, ' This 
is Grarlon, who has already slain two of my comrades, and 
I would rather slay him than have all the gold in the 
realm.' A He shall come before thee,' said his host, ' in a 
feast which King Pellam will hold not many days hence.' 

At that feast the invisible knight was slain ; and King 
Pellam and his knights rose up fiercely against Balin, 
because he had killed their brother : and Balin put up 
his sword to ward off the stroke of King Pellam, but his 
sword was shivered in twain, and Balin ran from chamber 
to chamber seeking a new weapon, until he came to a 
chamber marvellously light, in which was a bed arrayed 
with cloth of gold, and by it a table of pure gold borne 
up by four pillars of silver, and on the table was a 
marvellous spear strangely wrought. Seizing this spear 
Balin smote Pellam ; and this was the dolorous stroke : 
for thereon Pellam fell down in a swoon, and the castle 
roof and walls fell to the earth, and lay upon Pellam and 



§4 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Balin three days. At the end of these days came Merlin, 
who lifted them up, but Pellam lay many years sore 
wounded, till Gralahad healed him in the quest of the 
Sangreal. Then Balin bade farewell to Merlin and said 
to him, 'In this world we meet never more ; ' but where- 
ever he went, the people cried, ' Balin, thy dolorous 
stroke hath brought us to ruin ; and doubt not but the 
vengeance will fall on thee at the last.' Grlad was 
Balin to get out of these dismal lands ; but when he had 
left them behind him, there were yet grievous things for 
him to see and to suffer. For first, a knight whom he 
had aided to find the maiden whom he loved, slew the 
damsel for her treachery, and then drave his sword into 
his own body ; and next, Balin was intrapped into a fair 
castle, in which he saw an hundred ladies and many 
knights, with whom was dancing and minstrelsy and all 
manner of joy, and the lady of the castle told him that 
he must just with a knight who kept an island, and 
another bade him leave his own shield and take from the 
wall another which was larger. So Balin did even as he 
bade him ; and when he drew near to the island, a knight 
hastened towards him with spear in rest, and their horses 
drave together with a great shock, so that both were 
thrown down and lay in a swoon. Presently they rose 
up and fought again till their breath failed, and all the 
place as they strove was blood red. At the last the other 
went away to one side and laid him down, and Balin said, 
' Who art thou ? for never have I found one to match me.' 
'My name,' said the other, 'is Balan, and I am brother to the 
good knight Balin.' Then Balin swooned away again for 
grief and anguish, and when he awoke once more he said, 
'0 brother, thou hast slain me, and I thee, and all the 
world will speak of us both.' ' Alas!' said Balan, 'I knew 
thee not, for though I saw thy two swords, yet, because 
thou didst carry a larger shield, I thought that thou 
wast not the same knight.' As they thus made their moan 



Arthur and his Knights. 95 

the lady of the tower came with four knights and six 
ladies, and six yeomen with them, and these they be- 
sought that they might be buried within the same place 
where they had fought together ; and so the brothers died. 
In the noon came Merlin and wrote on the tomb letters 
of gold which said, 'Here lieth Balm the Knight of the 
Two Swords, who smote the dolorous stroke.' And he 
took Balin's sword, and set on it another pommel in place 
of its own, and gave it to a knight to handle : but the 
knight could not stir it. Then said Merlin, ' None but the 
best knight shall handle this sword; and that shall be 
Sir Lancelot, or his son Gralahad : and with this sword 
Lancelot shall slay Sir Grawaine, the man that he loved 
best in the world.' Then also Merlin made a bridge of iron 
and steel into that island, half-a-foot broad, over which 
those only should pass who were not guilty of fraud and 
falsehood ; l and by his subtilty he caused Balin's sword 
to be put in a marble stone standing upright as great as 
a millstone, and the stone, heaved up above the water, 
swam down the stream for many years till it reached the 
city of Camelot. On that same day Galahad brought the 
scabbard of Balin's sword, and so got the weapon in the 
marble stone that floated upon the water. And when 
these things were done, Merlin came to King Arthur and 
told him of the dolorous stroke which Balin gave to 
King Pellam, and of all the evils which had followed it ; 
and King Arthur mourned at the tidings, for he said, 'In 
the world I know not two such knights as these.' 

So ends the tale of Balin and Balan, the good knights 
of Northumberland. 

1 This is manifestly the bridge Al-Sirat of Mohammedan tradition. 
With it may be compared the Teutonic Bifrost, the waving bridge which 
joins earth and heaven. 



96 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 
CHAPTER III. 

THE WEDDING OF ARTHUR AND GUENEVERE. 

Now the king took counsel with Merlin, because his barons 
would have him take a wife ; and Merlin asked, ' Is there 
any on whom thy love is set ? ' ' Yes,' said the king, ' I 
love Gruenevere, the daughter of King Leodegrance who has 
in his house the Eound Table which he had from my father 
Uther.' e In truth,' answered Merlin, 6 the maiden for 
her beauty is right well- fitted to be a queen : but if ye 
loved her not so well as ye do, I might find another who 
should please thee not less, for Gruenevere can not be a 
wholesome wife for thee, and she will bring great sorrow 
to thee and to thy realm. But when a man's heart is set, 
it may not easily be turned aside.' ' That is true,' said 
the king : and straightway he sent messengers to King Leo- 
degrance to ask for his daughter, and Leodegrance rejoiced 
at the tidings. ' I would yield him rich lands with my 
child,' he said, ' but Arthur has lands enough. Yet will 
I send him a gift that shall please him more, for I will 
give him the Eound Table which Uther Pendragon gave 
me, and to which there were a hundred knights and fifty. 
Of these fifty have been slain in my days, but the hundred 
shall go with Gruenevere.' So they set out, and by water 
and land came royally to London, where the king joyously 
welcomed his bride and the hundred knights, and bade 
Merlin spy out fifty more knights throughout the land, 
who might be worthy to sit at that table : but only twenty- 
eight could Merlin find. Then the Bishop of Canterbury 
came and blessed the seats for the eight-and-twenty 
knights, who did homage to the king. And when they 
were gone, Merlin found in every seat letters of gold that 
told the names of the knights who had sat therein. But 
two seats were void. 



Arthur and his Knights. 97 

Then came young Grawaine and besought the king to 
make him a knight on the day in which he should wed 
Gruenevere ; and the king said that so it should be, because 
he was his sister's son. And after him, riding upon a lean 
mare, came a poor man who brought with him a fair youth ; 
and he also besought Arthur that the youth might be 
made a knight. 'Thou askest me a great thing,' said 
Arthur. ' Who art thou ? and does this prayer come of 
thee or of thy son ? ' 'I am Aries the cowherd,' answered 
the man, ' and I desire not this of myself. Nay, to say 
truth, I have thirteen sons, who will ever do that which 
I bid them : but this one will spend his time only in folly 
and delights only in battles and to see knights.' Then 
the king bent his eyes on the youth, who was named Tor, 
and he saw that he was both brave and fair ; and he bade 
that the other sons of the cowherd should be brought. 
But all these were shapen like the poor man, and none was 
in any wise like Tor. Then the youth knelt and besought 
the king to make him a knight of the Eound Table. ' A 
knight I will make you,' said Arthur, ' and hereafter thou 
shalt be also of the Eound Table, if thou art found worthy.' 
Then turning to Merlin, he said, ' Will Tor be a good 
knight ? ' ' Of a truth, he will,' answered Merlin, ' for he 
is no son of the cowherd. His father is King Pellinore.' 

When on the morrow King Pellinore came to the court, 
the king brought Sir Tor before him and told him that he 
was his son ; and Sir Pellinore embraced him joyfully. 
Then the king asked Merlin why two places were void in 
the seats : and Merlin said, ' No man shall sit in those 
places, but they that are of most worship : and on the 
Perilous Seat there is but one man on the earth who shall 
be found worthy to sit. If any who are not worthy dare 
to sit on it, he shall be destroyed.' Then taking Pellinore 
by the hand, he put him next the two seats and the Seat 
Perilous, and said, 'This is your place, for of all that are here 
you are the most worthy to sit in it.' When Sir Grawaine 

H 



98 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

heard these words, he was moved with envy, that the man 
who had slain his father, the King of Orkney, should be 
thus honoured ; and he would have slain him straightway, 
but his brother Graheris besought him not to trouble the 
high feast by so doing. ' Let us wait till we have him out 
of the court : ' and Grawaine said, 6 1 will.' 

When now the marriage day was come, the king 
wedded Gruenevere at Camelot in the Church of St. 
Stephen ; and afterwards there was great feasting, and 
Arthur gave charge to Sir Grawaine and Gaheris his 
brother, to Sir Tor and his father Sir Pellinore, who 
went forth, and each did great deeds before they came 
back to the king. With Sir Pellinore came a lady, whom 
he had rescued, named Nimue ; and as they journeyed 
to Camelot, and were resting under the shadow of thick 
trees, two knights met, as they rode by, and one asked the 
other what tidings there might be from Camelot ; and 
the other told him of the fellowship of Arthur's table, 
and said, ' We cannot break it up ; and well nigh all the 
world holdeth with Arthur, for there is the flower of 
chivalry. Wherefore with these tidings I ride to the 
north.' ' Nay,' said the other, ' there is no need. I have 
a remedy with me ; for I bear a poison to a friend who 
is right nigh to Arthur, and with it he will poison the 
king.' So they went each on his way, and Sir Pellinore 
told all that he had seen and heard when he came to the 
king at Camelot, with the lady whom he had rescued. 

But when Merlin set eyes on the damsel, he was be- 
sotted with her, and would let her have no rest, but 
always she must be with him. And she spake him fair 
till she had learned of him all manner of things that she 
sought to know. Yet the old man knew what should 
befall him, and he told the king that yet a little while, 
and he should go down into the earth alive, and he 
warned Arthur to keep well the sword and the scabbard, for 
these would be stolen by a woman whom he most trusted. 



Arthur and his Knights. 99 

4 Nay,' said the king, ' but if thou knowest what shall 
befall thee, why dost thou not prevent that mishap by thy 
craft ? ' 'It may not be,' said Merlin ; and presently the 
damsel went away, and Merlin followed whithersoever she 
went ; but she had made him swear to do no inchantment 
upon her, if he would have her love. So he went with 
her over the sea to the land of Benwick, where Merlin 
spake with Elaine, King Ban's wife, and there he saw 
young Lancelot ; and Elaine mourned greatly for the 
fierce war which Claudas made against Ban. £ Heed it 
not,' said Merlin, ' for before twenty years are gone, this 
child shall revenge you on King Claudas, and he shall be 
the man of most worship in the world.' ' Shall I indeed,' 
asked Elaine, ' live to see my son a man of so great a 
prowess?' 'Yea, indeed thou shalt see it,' answered 
Merlin, ' and live many years after.' Soon after this, the 
maiden departed, and Merlin went with her till they 
came into Cornwall ; but the damsel was weary of him, 
and afraid because he was a devil's son, and so it came to 
pass that when Merlin showed her a marvellous rock, 
beneath which there were great inchantments, she be- 
sought him to go under the stone and show her the 
marvels that were there ; but when he was beneath it, 
she so wrought that he never came forth again ; and she 
left him and went her way. 



CHAPTEE IV. 

THE TREASON OF MORGAN LE FAY. 

About this time, as Arthur rode to Camelot, the tidings 
came that the King of Denmark, with five other kings, 
was ravaging the land of the north. ' Alas ! ' said Arthur, 
' when have I had one month's rest since I became kino; 
of the land ? ' Nevertheless, he would not tarry an hour, 

H 2 



ioo Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

although his lords were wroth because he set out thus 
hastily. So he hastened away with Ghienevere the queen 
(for he said that he should be the hardier if she were with 
him), and came into a forest beside Humber; and a 
knight, when he heard that Arthur was come, warned the 
five kings to make haste and do battle with him, for the 
longer they tarried they would be ever the weaker, and 
Arthur stronger. And the five kings hearkened to his 
words, and fell on Arthur in the night ; but though they 
killed many, and there was for some while a great tumult, 
yet Arthur and his knights, Sir Kay, Sir Grawaine, and Sir 
Grinet, slew the five kings. In the morning, when their 
people knew that they were dead, they were struck with 
such fear that they fell from their horses, and Arthur and 
his men came upon them, and slew them to the number 
of thirty thousand, so that well nigh no man escaped 
alive ; but on Arthur's side were slain only two hundred, 
with eight knights of the Eound Table. And Arthur 
raised a fair church and minster on the battle-field, and 
called it the Abbey of Grood Adventure. 

Then the king took counsel with Sir Pellinore about 
the knights who should be chosen for the Kound Table 
in place of those who had been slain ; and Pellinore gave 
counsel to choose Uriens, the husband of Morgan le Fay, 
the king's sister, and Gralagars, and Hervise, and the King 
of the Lake, and with these four younger knights, of 
whom there were Grawaine, Grriflet, and Kay ; and for the 
fourth he bade Arthur choose between Tor and Bagdema- 
gus. And Arthur choose Tor, because he said little and 
did much ; and Bagdemagus went away sore displeased, 
and swore never to come back till he should be worthy 
to be chosen for the Round Table. As he rode with his 
squire he found a branch of an holy herb which was the 
sign of the Sangreal, and no man of evil life could ever 
find it. Then he came to the rock beneath which lay 
Merlin,' making great dole ; but when he would have 



Arthur and his Knights. 101 

helped him, Merlin bade him not to spend his strength for 
naught, for only she could help him who had put him 
there. So Bagdemagus went his way, and after doing- 
many great deeds he came back and was chosen a knight 
of the Eound Table. 

Now Arthur, with many of his knights, went hunting 
and chased a hart till they left their people far behind 
them, and at last their horses fell dead. ' Let us go on 
on foot,' said Uriens ; and at last they came up with the 
hart, and they saw also a great water, and on it a ship 
which came straight towards them, and landed on the sands. 
But when they looked into it they found no earthly crea- 
ture therein, and they wondered for the beauty of the 
ship, which was hung all over with cloth of silk. And now 
it was dark night, when suddenly there burst forth a great 
light, and twelve damsels came forth, and welcomed 
Arthur by his name, and led him with Uriens and Accolon 
of Graul, who were with him, to a table laden with wine 
and costly things, and then brought them each into a 
fair chamber that they might rest. But in the morning 
Uriens found himself in Camelot with Morgan le Fay, his 
wife, and King Arthur found himself in a dark prison, in 
which he heard the moaning of many who were shut up 
with him. Then the king asked them how they came 
there, and they told him that they had all been entrapped 
on their way by an evil knight, named Damas, who kept 
back part of his heritage from his brother Sir Ontzlake, 
whom men loved as much as they hated Damas; but 
because Ontzlake was the better knight, Damas was 
afraid to fight with him, and sought to get a champion, 
but none would take spear in hand for so evil a man ; and 
so it came to pass that they abode in the weary prison 
till eighteen had died. Presently there came a damsel 
who asked Arthur if he would fight for Damas. ' Tea, I 
will do so,' he said, ' for it is better to fight with a knight 
than to die in a dungeon — but only if all here be set free.- 



102 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Then the maiden said that so it should be, and that a 
horse and armour should be brought for the king. And 
the king said to the maiden, ' Surely I have seen thee in 
the court of Arthur ; ' and she said,- ' Nay ; for I am the 
daughter of the lord of this castle.' But she spake falsely, 
for she was one of the damsels of Morgan le Fay. So was 
it sworn between them that Damas should set all the 
knights free, and that Arthur should do battle for him to 
the death. 

Thus had it fared with Arthur. But when Accolon 
awoke, he found himself by a dark well-side, and from 
that fountain through a silver pipe the water ran in a 
marble basin ; and Accolon said, ' Grod help King Arthur, 
for these women have betrayed us.' And even as he 
spake there came a dwarf who brought him greetings 
from Morgan le Fay, and bade him be of good heart. ' In 
the morning,' he said, ' thou shalt fight with a knight at 
the hour of prime, and here is Excalibur, Arthur's sword, 
and the scabbard. Wherefore rise up and do battle with- 
out mercy, as ye love her.' So he sware to do as he was 
bidden for the love of Morgan le Fay ; and presently 
a knight and a lady, with six squires, led him to the 
house of Sir Ontzlake : and a messenger came from 
Damas to say that he had found a knight to fight for 
him, and to challenge Ontzlake to the battle. But 
Ontzlake was sorely wounded, and besought Accolon to 
take his cause in hand, and thus it came to pass that 
Accolon fought with the king's sword against the king 
whom he loved, for he knew not who it was who fought 
for Sir Damas. Long and terrible was the fight, for the 
false sword which Morgan le Fay had given to Arthur hit 
not like Excalibur, and the blood streamed from the king's 
body because the scabbard which he wore was not the 
scabbard of Excalibur, and thus as the strife went on 
Arthur grew weaker, while Accolon waxed stronger. 
But Arthur would not yield, not even when his sword 



Arthur and his Knights. 103 

broke at the cross and fell into the grass while the pommel 
remained in his hands. Then Accolon stood over the 
king and bade him yield himself, for he was greatly loth 
to slay him ; but Arthur said, ' I have sworn to fight to 
the death, and I lose not good name because I lose my 
weapon.' So when Accolon came against him once more, 
Arthur struck him with the pommel a blow so heavy that 
he reeled three strides backward. But the Lady of the 
Lake was looking on, and it was a grief to her that such 
a knight as Arthur should be slain. So at the next stroke 
she caused Excalibur to fly from the hand of Accolon, and 
Arthur leaping forth seized it in his hand, and said, ' Too 
long hast thou been from me, and much harm hast thou 
wrought me.' Then looking at Accolon he spied the 
scabbard of his own sword, and with a quick rush be 
seized it and threw it far away from them both. ' Now,' 
said Arthur to Accolon, 'thou shalt die;' and he dealt 
him a blow that the blood rushed from him in a torrent. 
6 Slay me if thou wilt,' said Accolon, ' but I have sworn 
not to yield me in this fight. Yet thou art the best 
knight that ever I have seen, and well I know that God 
is with you.' ' Tell me, then, who thou art,' said Arthur ; 
and he answered, ' I am Accolon of Graul, of King Arthur's 
court.' ' Nay, but I am Arthur,' said the king, in great 
fear because of the inchantments of Morgan le Fay ; ' tell 
me now, how earnest thou by the sword and the scabbard?' 
Then Accolon told him how the dwarf had brought them 
from Morgan le Fay, but that he knew not against whom 
he was using them in this fight ; and he besought the 
king's pardon. Then said Arthur, ' Thee I can forgive ; 
but upon my sister I will take such vengeance that all 
Christendom shall ring with it, for I have worshipped her 
more than all my kin, and trusted her more than mine 
own wife.' Then Arthur told the keepers of the field 
that there would have been no battle between them if 
each had, known who the other was ; and Accolon said, 



104 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

'This knight with whom I have fought, to my great 
sorrow, is the man of most manhood and worship in the 
world, for he is our liege lord, King Arthur.' Then the 
people, falling on their knees, prayed for mercy. ' Mercy 
ye shall have,' said Arthur ; ' and this is my judgment 
betwixt the two brethren. For thee, Sir Damas, I learn 
that thou art but a worthless knight, and full of villainy ; 
thou shalt give to thy brother the whole manor to hold 
of thee ; also thou shalt swear no more to harm knights 
who may be journeying on their way, and thou shalt give 
back to those knights who have been set free from thy 
dungeon all the harness of which thou hast robbed them; 
and if any come to me to say thou hast not done this, 
thou shalt die. Thee, Sir Ontzlake, I bid to my court, 
for thou art a brave knight, and an upright man.' More- 
over, Arthur told Ontzlake how the battle between him- 
self and Accolon had been A brought about, and Ontzlake 
marvelled that any man or woman could be found to 
work treason against Arthur ; and the king said, ' I shall 
soon reward them by the grace of Grod.' But the king 
needed rest after the fight, and they brought him to a 
fair abbey where in four days Sir Accolon died, for he had 
lost so much blood that he could not live. Then said 
Arthur, ' Bear his body to my sister, Morgan le Fay, and 
say that I send it to her as a gift, and that I have my 
sword and its scabbard.' So they bare the body of Accolon 
to Camelot. 

But meantime Morgan le Fay made sure that Arthur 
had died, and she bade one of her maidens fetch her hus- 
band's sword, for now would she slay him. In vain the 
damsel besought her' not to do so ; and she went to Sir 
Uwaine and said, ' Rise up, for thy mother is about to 
slay thy father, and I go to fetch the sword.' Presently, 
as Morgan le Fay stood by the bedside with the sword in 
her hands, Sir Uwaine seized her and said, ' Ah, fiend, 
what wilt thou do ? Men say that a devil was Merlin's 
father, and I may say that a devil is my mother.' Then 



Arthur and his Knights. 105 

Morgan cried for mercy and besought him not to discover 
her ; and Uwaine made her swear that she would not do 
the like in time to come. 

At last the tidings came that it was Accolon who had 
died, and that Arthur had again his sword and his scab- 
bard, and the heart of Morgan almost burst with her grief. 
But because she would not have it known, she suffered not 
her face to bewray her sorrow; and because she knew 
that if she tarried till Arthur came back no ransom should 
save her life, she besought Queen Gruenevere for leave to 
ride into the country ; and on the morrow she hastened to 
the abbey where Arthur lay sleeping, and lighting off her 
horse went straight into the chamber, where she found 
Arthur asleep and Excalibur naked in his right hand. 
So, grieving terribly that she might not take the sword 
without awaking him, she took the scabbard, and went 
her way. When Arthur awoke and saw that his scabbard 
was gone, he charged his knights with having watched him 
falsely; but they said, 'We durst not withstand your sister's 
bidding.' Then Arthur bid Sir Ontzlake arm and ride 
with him in all haste, and they hastened after Morgan, 
until they saw her speeding from them as fast as her horse 
could bear her. When at last she knew that there was 
no hope of escape, she swore that her brother should never 
have the scabbard, and taking it from her girdle she 
hurled it into a lake hard by, and it sunk forthwith, for it 
was heavy with gold and precious stones. Then riding on 
she came to a valley where there were many large stones, 
and because she saw that Arthur would soon overtake 
her, she turned herself and those who were with her into 
stones, so that when they came up, the king could not 
discern between his sister and her men. So he rode back 
to the abbey whence he had come ; and when he was gone, 
Morgan turned herself and her men into their former 
likeness, and as she went on, she rescued, from a knight 
who was going to drown him, a cousin of Accolon named 
Manassen, and she bade him go tell Arthur that she had 



106 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

rescued him not for the love of the king but for love of 
Accolon, and that she feared nothing so long as she could 
change herself and those who were with her into stones, 
for she could do greater things than these when the time 
should come. 

Not long had Manassen reached Camelot when there 
came a damsel, bearing the richest mantle that ever was 
seen, set full of precious stones, and she said, ' Your sister 
sends this mantle that you may take this gift from her, 
and if in aught she has done you wrong, she will amend 
it.' But the Lady of the Lake warned him in secret, ' Take 
heed that the garment come not nigh thee or any of thy 
knights, until thou hast made the bringer of it put it on.' 
Then said the king to the maiden, < I would see upon you 
this raiment which ye have brought,' and when the damsel 
said that it was not seemly for her to wear a king's gar- 
ment, Arthur made them put it on her, and she was burnt 
to coals. But the king turned to Sir Uriens and said, 
' I know not what these treasons may mean. Thee I can 
scarcely suspect, for Accolon confessed to me that Morgan 
would destroy thee as well as me ; for Uwaine I hold sus- 
pected, and I bid thee send him from my court.' Then 
said Gawaine, ' He who banishes my cousin banishes me ; ' 
so the two departed, and Gaheris said, ' We have lost two 
good knights for the love of one.' 

As they went upon their way Uwaine and Gawaine came 
to a tower in a valley, where twelve maidens with two 
knights went to and fro near a tree on which hung a 
white shield, and they spit at the shield and threw mire 
on it as they passed : and they asked the maidens why 
they did so, they said, ' It is the shield of Sir Marhaus who 
hates all ladies.' 'It may be that he has cause,' said 
Gawaine ; and presently came Marhaus himself, and the 
two knights of the tower hastened to do battle with him, 
but they were both slain ; and after this Marhaus jousted 
with Gawaine and Uwaine. The fight was long and fierce, 



Arthur and his Knights. 107 

for so it was that from nine of the clock till noontide 
Grawaine waxed stronger and stronger; but when it was past 
noon and drew toward evensong, Sir Grawaine's strength 
waned, and Sir Marhaus grew bigger and bigger ; and at 
last Marhaus said, 'It were a pity to do you hurt, for you 
are passing feeble.' So they took off their helmets and 
kissed each other, and swore to love henceforth as brethren : 
and they went together to the home of Sir Marhaus, with 
whom (xawaine and Uwaine tarried seven days till their 
wounds were well healed. Then Marhaus guided them to 
the forest of Alroy, in which by a fair stream of water they 
saw three damsels sitting. The eldest had a garland of 
gold upon her head, and her hair was white under her 
garland, for she had seen threescore winters or more. 
The second had on her head a circlet of gold, and she was 
thirty winters old. The third, whose head was crowned 
with flowers, had seen only fifteen summers. 'Wherefore 
sit ye by the fountain ? ' asked the knight, and the maidens 
answered, ' We sit here watching for errant knights, that 
we may teach them strange adventures : and if ye be men 
who seek adventures, each one of you must choose one of us, 
and we will lead you to three highways, and then each of 
you shall choose his way and his damsel shall go with him ; 
and when twelve months have passed, ye must meet here 
again ; and to this ye must plight your troth.' ' It is well 
said,' they answered ; and Sir Uwaine said, ' I am the 
youngest and the weakest, therefore will I have the eldest 
damsel, for she has seen much and can help me best when 
Ihave need.' Then said Sir Marhaus, 'I will have the 
second damsel, for she falls best to me.' ' I thank you,' said 
Sir Grawaine, 'for ye have left me the youngest and fairest, 
and she only it is whom I would have.' When they came 
to the parting of the roads, they kissed and went each his 
way — Sir Uwaine to the west, Sir Marhaus to the south, 
and Sir Gawaine to the north. 

Now, when he had gone some way, Grawaine came to a 



108 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

lawn, and near a cross which stood there, there came by the 
fairest knight that they had ever seen : but he was mourn- 
ing as one in great grief. Then there followed ten knights 
who threw their spears at the sorrowful knight, but he un- 
horsed them all, and afterwards suffered them to bind him 
and to treat him shamefully. ' Why go you not to his 
help ? ' said the damsel to Grawaine. c I would do so,' he 
answered, ' but it seems he will have no help.' But now 
three knights came and challenged Grawaine to just with 
them : and while they were justing, another knight came 
to the damsel and asked why she abode with him who had 
brought her thither. 6 1 find it not in my heart,' she said, 
6 to abide with him any longer, for he helps not those who 
need his aid ; ' and she departed with the stranger. When 
the justing was ended, Grawaine asked who the sorrowful 
knight might be ; and they told him that his name was Sir 
Pelleas, and that he loved the lady Ettard, who would not 
listen to his suit and even drove him from her with evil 
words, although in a great justing he had won the right 
to crown the fairest lady, and had placed the circlet upon 
her brow. But so was Pelleas smitten by love for Ettard, 
that he suffered her knights to bind him after he had con- 
quered them in fighting, in hopes that he might thus be 
brought into her sight ; but he hoped in vain. Then said 
Gawaine, ' I will go and help him, and he shall see the lady 
of his love.' So on the next day he made an oath with 
Pelleas that he would win the damsel for him, and when 
he came to the house of Ettard, he told her that he was a 
knight who had slain Sir Pelleas. At this Ettard was so 
full of joy that she welcomed Grawaine and made him good 
cheer, until he forgot the word he had plighted to Pelleas, 
and wooed the maiden for himself. When Pelleas knew 
that Grawaine was forsworn, he took horse, for he could tarry 
no longer for pure sorrow ; and he went his way and laid 
him down upon his bed to die. But the Lady of the Lake 
whom Merlin had loved came and looked on him as he slept, 



Arthur and his Knights. 109 

and she said, ' So fair a knight shall not die ; ' and in two 
hours she came back with the lady Ettard, and threw such 
an inchantment upon her that Ettard loved Pelleas now 
as much as she had hated him in time past. But when 
Pelleas woke and saw her standing near, he hated her with 
all his soul. ' Begone, traitress,' he said, ' and never come 
near me more.' So Ettard went away and died of sorrow, 
and the Lady of the Lake led Pelleas into her own land, 
and they loved together while they lived. 

But Marhaus with the maiden of thirty winters' age 
did better things, for he came first to the house of a duke 
who received him churlishly, and when he knew who he 
was, said that on the morrow he must fight with himself and 
his six sons, because Grawaine had slain his seven sons and 
now was the time for vengeance, and Marhaus must fight 
alone with seven against him. So on the morrow they 
fought, and Marhaus was so mighty that he overthrew 
them all, and made them swear never more to be foes to 
King Arthur or his knights. Then Marhaus went on 
with his damsel, and at a great tourney he won a rich 
circlet of gold worth a thousand besants, and afterwards 
slew a terrible giant who ravaged the lands of Earl Fergus, 
and delivered many ladies and knights out of the giant's 
dungeon. There he got great riches, so that he was 
never poor all the days of his life, and so went on his way 
with the maiden to the trysting-place. 

Likewise with the damsel of sixty winters ' age, Sir 
Uwaine bore himself as a good knight, for he avenged the 
Lady of the Eock against those who had robbed her of 
her heritage, and restored to her all her lands ; and Sir 
Uwaine dwelt with the lady for nearly half a year, to be 
healed of the grievous wounds which he had received 
when he did battle on her behalf. Then as the year came 
round, he hastened with the maiden to the trysting-place : 
and all met there, as they had agreed ; but the damsel 
that Grawaine had could say little good of him. 



no Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

So at last tliey came back to the king, who was right 
glad to see them, and bade them tell him all that had 
befallen them. When the feast of Pentecost came, the 
Lady of the Lake brought with her Sir Pelleas, who was 
made a knight of the Bound Table, and Sir Marhaus also, 
for there were two seats void, for two knights were slain 
that year : and Sir Pelleas was afterwards one of the four 
that achieved the Sangreal. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE CROWNING OF ARTHUR AT ROME. 

Now it was that, as Arthur held a royal feast with the 
knights of the Round Table, and the kings and princes 
who were his friends and allies, there came twelve ancient 
men and charged him to pay truage for his realm to the 
emperor who was at Rome. Then some of the knights 
and lords were so wroth that they would have slain the 
messengers, but Arthur stayed their hands. 6 1 like not 
their message,' he said, 'but I must remember mine 
honour.' 

Then Arthur took counsel, and when the King of Scot- 
land, the Lord of West Wales, and the King of Little 
Britain, with many others, had sworn to help him, he sent 
for the Roman messengers, and said, ' Gro tell your lord 
it is I who am emperor, not he, and I am coming to Rome 
with my army to make good my right and subdue those 
that rebel against me.' Then with large gifts and great 
courtesy he sent them away : and when they reached Rome, 
there was sore fear among the great men who were with 
the emperor, and one said to him, 'It may be thou hast 
made a rod for thyself, for Arthur is all another man than 
ye think for, and around him is the noblest fellowship of 
knights, lords, and princes that is in the vforld. For his 



Arthur and his Knights. 1 1 1 

courage the world is too little, and in his person he is the 
most manly man that lives.' Then the emperor told how 
he meant to pass the mountains and do battle with Arthur ; 
and he summoned together all the kings and chiefs who 
were bound to do him service from Europe and from Africa, 
from Ind and Egypt, Gralatia and Turkey, and with them 
fifty giants who were born of fiends to guard his person. 
So came the emperor to Cologne. 

And Arthur held a parliament at York, and there left 
his queen and realm to the governance of Sir Baldwin and 
Sir Constantine, and then sailed away with his host from 
Sandwich. After they had landed at Barflete in Flan- 
ders, there came a poor man who told the king of a great 
giant who slew men and devoured children in Britanny, 
and how he had stolen away the duchess, the wife of 
Howell, the king's cousin. Then with Sir Kay and Sir 
Bedivere he rode on pilgrimage to St. Michael's Mount, 
but when he reached its foot, he bade them stay while 
he went up alone. Fearful was the fight when he found 
the giant gnawing the limbs of a man and challenged 
him to battle, for when the king had smitten him, the 
giant threw away his club and catching him in his arms 
crushed his ribs ; and so they struggled and wrung to- 
gether, till they rolled down the hill and reached the 
sea mark at the place where the king had charged Sir 
Kay and Sir Bedivere to await him. And now he bade 
Sir Kay to smite off the giant's head and bear it to Sir 
Howell ; and the people came and thanked the king for 
his great exploit. ' Give the thanks to Grod,' he said, 
' and part the goods among you.' 

Then were there fearful battles between Arthur's men 
and the hosts of the emperor ; but everywhere Arthur's 
men were the conquerors, and when he saw what great 
things his knights had done, he embraced them knight 
by knight in his arms and said, ' Never was there king 
that had knights so noble as mine.' At . the last there 



1 1 2 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

came a day in which Arthur fought with the emperor 
and smote him with Excalibur that he died ; and he sent 
the body with the bodies of many lords who had been 
slain, charging the men who bare them to tell the Romans 
that the king sent them as the tribute for which they had 
asked, and that if this did not suffice he would pay them 
more when he came himself to Eome. Thither he went 
by Milan and Pavia, and through Tuscany, and in the 
cities to which he came all the people yielded him homage 
and sware to be his subjects for ever ; and at Rome at 
Christmastide he was crowned emperor by the Pope, and 
then he held high festival with his knights, and gave lands 
and realms unto his servants, in such wise that none 
complained whether rich or poor. So was his journey 
ended with honour and worship. Then said the king, ' To 
tempt Grod is no wisdom ; therefore wend we again to 
England ; ' and to England they came, and Queen Grue- 
nevere hastened to meet her lord at Sandwich ; and at 
every city and burgh the commons brought him splendid 
gifts to welcome home their king. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE EXPLOITS OF SIR LANCELOT DU LAKE. 

Among the knights who had fought for Arthur with the 
Romans none had done so great deeds as Lancelot du Lake ; 
and for this Queen Gruenevere had him in favour above all 
other knights, and of a truth he loved the queen above all 
other ladies and damsels all his life, and for her did many 
deeds of arms. When he was now well rested, he set out 
with his nephew Sir Lionel, and they rode into a deep 
forest and so into a deep plain ; and as the sun waxed hot, 
the eyes of Lancelot became heavy with sleep, and Lionel 
said, ' See here is a great apple-tree ; there rest ,we our- 



Arthur and his Knights. 113 

selves and our horses.' So there they alighted, and tied 
their horses to trees, and Lancelot sank to sleep heavily 
while Lionel kept watch. But as he watched, there came 
three knights riding, and yet another followed who smote 
down the three who had gone before ; and Lionel thought 
to rescue them, and privily mounted his horse, because he 
sought not to awake Lancelot. But he fared no better 
than the three knights, for he too was taken, and carried 
by the knight to his castle, where he with them was 
beaten with thorns, and thrust into a dungeon. In like 
manner fared Sir Ector de Maris, who had followed 
Lancelot to aid him. He too was seized by Sir Turquine, 
and when he found Sir Lionel in the dungeon, he asked 
him where Sir Lancelot might be. ' I left him asleep,' he 
said, ' under an apple-tree, when I went from him ; but 
what is become of him I cannot tell.' 6 Alas ! ' said the 
knights who were captives in the dungeon, ' if Lancelot 
rescue us not, there is none other that can deliver us out 
of the hands of Turquine.' 

Now, as Lancelot lay sleeping under the tree, there 
came by four queens, and as they looked on his face, they 
knew that it was Sir Lancelot, and they began to strive 
for him, for each said she would have him to be her love. 
6 Nay,' said Morgan le Fay, ' I will put an inchantment 
upon him, and when he wakes up from it, let him choose 
which of us four he will have.' So they bare him sleeping 
to the castle Chariot ; and on the morn the four queens 
stood before him, and said, ' We know thee well that thou 
art Sir Lancelot, King Ban's son ; and well we know that 
Queen Gruenevere has thy love ; but as now thou must lose 
her for ever, therefore thou must now choose one of us 
four. I am Morgan le Fay, and here is the Queen of 
North Wales, the Queen of Eastland, and the Queen of 
the Out Isles. Choose which thou wilt have ; and if thou 
wilt not choose, in this prison thou shalt die.' Then said 
Lancelot, ' I will have none of you, for ye are all false 

I 



H4 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

inchantresses : and for Ghienevere, I would prove, were 
I free, that she is the truest lady living.' Then the 
queens left him in great wrath ; but a fair maiden rescued 
him from their wiles, and she was the daughter of King 
Bagdemagus. She it was who brought him to his armour 
and his horse, and bade him ride to an abbey of white 
monks, whither she would bring her father to him. And 
even so it came about ; and Lancelot promised to aid 
Bagdemagus in a great tourney which was soon to be 
held. In that tourney Lancelot did great things, for he 
smote down the King of North Wales and Sir Mador of 
the Grate, and after him, Sir Mordred and Sir Grahalatine ; 
and so was it judged that Bagdemagus should have the 
prize. 

Then said Lancelot that he must go seek his brother 
Lionel ; and as he journeyed, it so chanced that he came 
into the same forest where he was taken sleeping ; and a 
damsel came, which asked him if he would do battle with 
Sir Turquine, who had in his dungeon threescore and four 
knights of Arthur's court. Then Lancelot sware to do as 
she desired ; and presently he saw riding towards him a 
great knight, before whom an armed knight lay bound 
across his horse ; and Lancelot knew him to be Graheris, the 
brother of Sir Grawaine. Then Lancelot challenged Sir 
Turquine to the battle ; and they fought fiercely, until at 
length Turquine promised to free all his prisoners if 
Lancelot would tell him his name, because he was the 
bravest knight whom he had ever met, and like one 
knight that he hated above all other knights. ' It is well 
said,' answered Lancelot ; ' and now tell thou me, who is 
this knight whom thou hatest above all other men ? ' 
' To say sooth,' said Turquine, f he is Lancelot du Lake, 
who slew my brother Carados ; and if ever we meet, one 
of us shall remain dead upon the ground. For his sake 
I have slain a hundred good knights, and have scores in 
prison, and all these will I set free, so thou be not 



Arthur and his Knights. 1 1 5 

Lancelot.' ' Well,' said Sir Lancelot, fi if thou wilt know 
it, I am Lancelot du Lake, the son of King Ban of 
Benwick, and very knight of the Round Table.' ' Ah ! ' 
said Turquine, ' thou art most welcome to me of all men, 
for we part not till one of us be dead.' But for all his 
large words, Turquine was smitten to death by Lancelot, 
who rescued Graheris, and bade him go to Turquine's 
castle and give his greeting to Arthur's knights who lay 
in the dungeon, charging them to take such stuff as they 
might find, and then to go to the court and await his 
coming about the time of Pentecost. But this they 
would not do, for they said that it would be shame to 
them if they hastened not to his help. 

And once again Lancelot did good service to the daughter 
of Bagdemagus by rescuing her from the hands of Sir 
Peris of the Forest ; and after that he asked if she needed 
aught more at his hands. ' Nay,' she said, ' at this time. 
But Grod guard thee for the greatest knight that now 
lives. But one thing thou lackest — that ye will not 
love some maiden ; and it is noised that ye love Queen 
Gruenevere, and that she has ordained by inchantment that 
ye shall never love any but her ; wherefore many are sad 
in this land, both great and small.' ' Fair maiden,' said 
Lancelot, ' I may not keep people from saying what it 
pleaseth them to say ; but I think not to be a wedded 
man, and I would go on my way with my hands clean and 
my heart pure.' So they parted ; and Lancelot went on 
to do great things. At the Castle of Tintagil, where 
Uther won Igerne, he slew two giants, and set free three- 
score ladies who had been their prisoners for seven years. 
And after this he rescued Sir Kay from three knights who 
had set upon him, and he made them yield themselves to 
Sir Kay, and swear to go and tell Queen (xuenevere that 
Sir Kay sent them to be her prisoners. 

In the night, as Sir Kay and he slept together, Lancelot 
rose quietly and put on Sir Kay's armour and shield, and 

1 2 



n6 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

so went on his way ; and soon lie had to fight with other 
two knights, who took him to be Sir Kay. These also he 
overcame, and he charged them to yield themselves to 
Queen Gruenevere at Whitsuntide, and to say that Sir Kay 
had sent them unto her. After this, a maiden, whose 
brother was sore wounded, besought him to go into the 
Chapel Perilous, and thence bring a sword and a cloth, 
which should stanch his bleeding, for in no other wise 
could it be stanched. So Lancelot went into the chapel, 
and within he saw a dim lamp burning, and before the 
altar a corpse covered with a cloth of silk. As he stooped 
down to cut off a piece of this cloth, the earth quaked, so 
that Lancelot was afraid ; but he seized the fair sword 
which lay by the body, and hastened out of the chapel. 
As he passed out, a fair damsel bade him leave the sword, 
if he would not die. 'It may not be,' said Lancelot. 
- Thou hast done well,' answered the maiden, 6 for if thou 
hadst left the sword, thou shouldest never see Queen 
Guenevere. And now, I pray thee, kiss me but once.' 
6 God forbid,' said Sir Lancelot. ' Well,' said the damsel, 
4 hadst thou kissed me, thy days had been done ; but now 
have I lost all my labour, for I ordained this chapel for 
thy sake and for Sir Grawaine : and once I had Sir Grawaine 
within my power, when he fought with Sir Gilbert, the 
dead knight, whose sword thou hast taken. But know 
now, Sir Lancelot, that I have loved thee these seven 
years past ; yet may no woman have thy love but Gruenevere. 
Still, if I could not have thee alive, I should have no 
greater joy in this world than to have thy body dead. 
Then would I have embalmed and kept it all my days ; 
and daily should I have kissed thee in spite of Gruenevere.' 
6 Grod preserve me from your subtle crafts,' said Lancelot. 
And so he went his way ; and the maiden pined away in 
her sorrow till, on the fourteenth night, she died ; and 
her name was Hellawes, the sorceress, the lady of the 
castle Mgramous. Presently there met him the damsel 



Arthur mid his Knights. 1 1 7 

who had prayed him to stanch the bleeding of her brother, 
Sir Meliot, and when she saw him, she clapped her hands 
for joy. Then they went together to the castle where the 
bleeding knight lay ; and when Lancelot touched his 
wounds with Sir Gilbert's sword, and wiped them with 
the cloth that he took from Gilbert's body, Sir Meliot 
rose up hale and strong as ever he had been in his life, 
and Lancelot charged him to show himself at Arthur's 
court on the feast of Pentecost. But Lancelot himself 
yet went on his way, doing brave and knightly deeds ; and 
sometimes they for whom he wrought them were worthy, 
but sometimes they were treacherous, and sought to trap 
him by his goodness and his courtesy. 

At the last he journeyed back to Arthur's court, and 
there were all those whom he had charged to go and 
yield themselves at the feet of Guenevere, and there also 
were Gawaine and Gaheris, and all praised Lancelot for his 
great exploits. ' Yea,' said Sir Kay, 6 Lancelot took my 
harness and left me his ; and so I rode in peace, and none 
had aught to say to me, because they took me for Sir 
Lancelot.' And Sir Meliot also told his tale. Then was 
there great joy and gladness : and at that feast Sir Belleus 
was made a knight of the Eound Table. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE STOKT OF SIR GARETH OF ORKNEY. 

King Arthur was holding high festival in the Castle of 
Kinkenadon upon the sands that marched nigh Wales, 
when there came into the hall two men on whose shoulders 
there leaned the fairest and goodliest youth that ever man 
saw, as though of himself he could not walk. When 
they reached the dais, the youth prayed God to bless the 
king and all his fair fellowship of the Round Table. ' And 



1 1 8 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

now I pray thee, grant me three gifts, which I seek not 
against reason : the one of these I will ask thee now, and the 
other two when twelve months have come round.' ' Ask,' 
said Arthur, 6 and ye shall have your asking. 5 ' Then,' 
answered the youth, ' I will that ye give me meat and drink 
for a year.' And though the king bade him ask some- 
thing better, yet would he not : and Arthur said, ' Meat 
and drink enough shalt thou have ; for that I never stinted 
to friend or foe. But what is thy name ? ' ' That I cannot 
tell,' said the youth. ' Strange,' said the king, ' that thou 
shouldest not know thy name, and thou the goodliest youth 
that ever mine eyes have seen.' Then the king gave him 
in charge to Sir Kay, who scorned him because he had 
asked so mean a gift. c Since he has no name,' said Sir 
Kay, 6 1 will call him Pretty-hands, and into the kitchen 
shall he go, and there have fat brose, so that at the year's 
end he shall be fat as a pork hog.' So the youth went to 
the hall door and sat down among boys and lads, and 
there he ate sadly. Yea though Sir Gawaine and Sir 
Lancelot would have him come and drink wine in their 
chamber, yet would he not stir from the place where Sir 
Kay had put him. So was it throughout the twelve 
months, that he displeased not man nor child by reason of 
his meekness and his mildness. Only when there was 
any justing of knights, he hastened to see it ; and when 
they were any sports, none might cast bar nor stone, as he 
did, by two yards. 

At Whitsuntide the king again made high festival ; and 
a maiden came beseeching him to succour a lady who was 
besieged in her castle by the Eed Knight of the Red Lawns. 
But she would not tell the lady's name : and because she 
would not, the king said that none of his knights that 
were there should go to help her with his will. Then 
came the youth and spake to the king. ' I have had one 
gift : and now I ask the other two, as thou didst promise. 
First, let me have this adventure : and next, bid Sir 



Arthur and his Knights. 119 

Lancelot make me knight, for of him alone will I take 
knighthood.' 'All this shall be done,' said the king. 
' Fie,' said the maiden, ' am I to have only your kitchen- 
knave ? ' and she took her horse and went away wroth. 

At that moment came one who said to the youth that a 
dwarf was come with his armour and horse, and with all 
manner of rich things. So the youth mounted his horse, 
and rode after the damsel. Then said Sir Kay, ' I will go 
and see how the kitchen-boy fares ; ' but when the youth 
saw him coming, he turned and bade Sir Kay beware. 
But Sir Kay put his spear in rest ; and when the youth 
saw this, he rushed towards him and thrusting aside the 
spear with his sword, smote down Sir Kay, and took his 
shield and his spear, and rode away. But soon Sir 
Lancelot overtook him, and they justed together so 
fiercely, till at the last Lancelot said, ' Fight not so sore : 
our quarrel is not so great but we may fairly leave off.' 
6 That is true,' answered the youth, ' but it does me good 
to feel your might, nor was it I who challenged the fight ; 
and now I pray you give me the order of knighthood.' 
But Lancelot said that he could do so only if the youth 
told him his name. ' Well, then, if you swear not to dis- 
cover me, I will tell thee. My name is Grareth, and I am 
brother to Sir Grawaine.' Then was Lancelot right glad 
and forthwith made him a knight : and the youth rode 
away. But when he overtook the damsel, she reviled him, 
and told him that his clothes were full of the grease and 
tallow of the king's kitchen, and that he was but a mover 
of spits and a ladle-washer. ' Say to me what thou wilt,' 
answered the youth, ' I go not from thee till I have done 
that which I sware to do.' And they had not gone far 
before a man, who was fleeing away with all his might, 
prayed him to give him aid against six thieves, who were 
in the wood : and the youth slew them all. But none 
the less the damsel reviled him, and said that he had over- 
powered them not by bravery but by chance, nor would she 



1 20 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

sit at the same board with him in the house of the man 
whom he had rescued from the thieves. 

On the morrow the youth set forth again with the dam- 
sel and came to a ford where on the other side stood two 
knights to bar the passage. ' Wilt thou match yonder 
knights ? ' asked the maiden. ' Yea,' answered the youth, 
' though they were not two but eight ; ' and so it came to 
pass that in the fight which followed one was drowned 
and the other cloven to the chin. But the maiden said 
that he had won all by chance, for the horse of the first 
knight stumbled, and the second knight fell by mishap. 
8 Say what thou wilt,' answered the youth, ' I heed it not, 
so I may win your lady.' Onwards thus they went, the 
damsel reviling, till they came to a black lawn on which 
a black banner hung upon a black hawthorn, and on the 
other side a black shield ; and near it stood a black spear 
and a black horse covered with silk, and a black stone 
hard by, and by it sat, all armed, the Knight of the Black 
Lawn, who asked the damsel if she had brought a knight 
of King Arthur to be her champion. ' Nay,' she said, ' this 
is but a kitchen knave, of whom I cannot be rid ; and I 
have seen him this day slay two men by mischance, and 
not by prowess.' Then said the black knight, ' I will but 
put him down on one foot, and take his horse and his har- 
ness, for it were shame to do him any more harm.' But 
the youth spake in few words and said, ' Sir Knight, 
thou art full liberal of my horse and harness ; but neither 
shalt thou have of me, unless thou winnest them with thy 
hands. Let us see then what thou canst do.' ' Is it even 
so ? ' said the black knight : c leave then thy lady, for it 
is not seemly that a kitchen page should ride by her side.' 
' Thou liest,' said the youth, ' I am of higher lineage than 
thou art, and I will prove it on thy body.' Then they 
came together and fought fiercely till the youth was sorely 
hurt, but at the last the black knight fell down in a swoon 
and died ; and the youth put on his armour and took his 



Arthtcr and his Knights. 121 

horse, and rode after the damsel. But still she urged him 
to flee away, for all that he had done had been done by 
chance : and still the youth sware that he would not leave 
her till he should see the uttermost of that journey. 

Next, there came towards them a knight clad in green, 
who asked the maiden if she had brought with her his 
brother, the black knight. ' Nay,' she said, ' this kitchen- 
page has slain thy brother ; but it was by mischance.' 
' Ah ! traitor,' said the green knight, ' thou shalt die for 
thus shamefully slaying my brother.' ' I defy thee,' 
answered the youth ; ' and I tell thee that I slew him 
knightly.' So, as he had fought before with the black 
knight, he fought now with the green knight, until he 
had unhorsed him, and the green knight besought his 
mercy. 'No mercy will I give thee,' said the youth, 
' unless the maiden who came with me pray me to save 
thy life.' But she would not, for she thought scorn to 
ask a boon of a kitchen-page ; and the green knight 
prayed again, and sware to bring thirty knights to do the 
youth service. ' It will avail thee nought,' said the 
youth, ' if this maiden ask not for thy life ; ' and he made 
as though he were about to slay him. Then said the 
damsel, surlily, ' Slay him not, for if thou dost thou 
shalt repent it.' With this was the youth satisfied, and 
he released the green knight, who kneeled to him and 
did him homage ; and all three rode to the green knight's 
house, where they lodged that night. 

On the morn they arose, and after mass the green knight 
led them through the forest, and he sware that he and his 
thirty knights should be ever ready at the youth's bid- 
ding. ' See then,' said the youth, ' that ye go and yield 
yourselves to King Arthur when I call upon you.' But 
the maiden was churlish and sullen still, and she warned 
the youth that he would never be able to go through the 
Perilous Pass. ' Well then,' he answered, ' let him who 
fears flee.' Presently they saw a tower white as snow, 



122 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

and under the tower was a fair meadow ; and when the 
lord of the castle saw them coming, he thought that it 
was his brother, the black knight. So he cried aloud, 
6 Brother, what do ye in these marches ? ' ' Nay,' said the 
maiden, ' it is not he. He has slain thy brother ; but he 
did it by chance, for he is but a kitchen-knave ; he has 
also overcome thy brother the green knight. But now 
thou mayest be revenged on him, for I can never be quit 
of him.' Then was there again a fierce strife, in which 
the red knight sorely wounded the youth, so that the 
blood came from him in streams ; but at the last he, too, 
was struck down to the earth, and prayed for mercy. 
6 No mercy shalt thou have, if this damsel ask not thy 
life.' But when he made as though he would slay him, 
the maiden charged him not to do it, for he was a noble 
knight. And the youth bade the red knight stand up 
and thank the damsel for his life. Then the red knight 
took them into his castle, and when the night was come 
he ordered sixty knights to keep watch round the youth, 
and guard him against treason, and with these knights he 
sware to serve him always. And again the youth charged 
them to be ready to go and yield themselves to King 
Arthur when he should bid them. 

But as they rode on, still the damsel reviled him ; and 
she warned him that they would soon come to the lands 
of a knight who should pay him all his wages, for he was 
the man of most worship in the world except King Arthur. 
' It is well,' answered the youth, ' for the more he is of 
worship, the more shall be my worship if I conquer him.' 
Soon they saw before them a beautiful city, and before 
the city a fair plain full of pavilions richly dight ; and 
the maiden said, ' These are the pavilions of Sir Persant 
of Inde, and about him are five hundred knights and 
gentlemen-at-arms.' ' It may be,' answered the youth ; 
* but if he be a knight brave and courteous, as you say, 
he will not set upon me with all his men or with his five 



A rthur and his Knights. 123 

hundred knights : and if there come against me but one 
at a time, I shall not fail while my life lasts.' ' Fie,' said 
the maiden, ' that such a knave as thou shouldest boast 
thus.' ' It boots not to talk,' he answered ; ' let him come 
and do his worst.' Then said the damsel, ' I marvel who 
thou mayest be, for never has a woman ruled a knight so 
fully and shamefully as I have ruled you, and yet hast 
thou ever treated me courteously ; nor could any do this 
who came not of gentle blood.' 

6 Maiden,' said the youth, ' a knight is worth little who 
cannot suffer a damsel. I took no heed to thy words, but 
the more they angered me, the more I wreaked my wrath 
on those with whom I had to do. And so it is that all 
thy foul words have furthered me in my battles.' ' Alas ! ' 
she said, ' forgive me for all that I have said or done 
amiss against thee.' ' With all my heart,' he answered ; 
6 for, to say sooth, all thy evil words pleased me.' Even 
so it came to pass in the battle with Sir Persant that the 
youth was conqueror ; and the damsel was no more loth 
to pray for his life ; and Sir Persant said, ' Well, I wot 
now that thou didst slay my brother, the black knight, 
and didst overcome my brethren, the green and the red 
knights. And now shalt thou have homage and service 
of me and of my hundred knights.' That night they 
lodged with Sir Persant, who asked the maiden whither 
she was leading her knight, and she said that he was 
going to the help of her sister, who was besieged in her 
castle. ' Ah,' said Persant, ' he who besieges her is the 
Knight of the Eed Lawns, a man without mercy, and with 
the strength of seven men. God save you from that 
knight, for he doth great wrong to that lady, who is one 
of the fairest ladies of the world, and your damsel is, I 
think, her sister. Is not your name Linet : ' 'It is,' she 
said, ' and my sister's name is Liones.' Then Sir Persant 
told the youth that the Knight of the Eed Lawns might 
have won the lady many times, but that he kept up the 



124 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

siege "because he wished to do battle with some great 
knight, such as Sir Lancelot, or Sir Tristram, or Sir 
Lamorak, or Sir Grawaine. ' Grod speed you well,' said 
Sir Persant ; ' for if thou canst match the red knight, ye 
shall be called the fourth knight of the world.' Then 
said the youth, ' I would fain be of good fame ; but my 
father was a noble man, and, so that ye will keep it close, 
I will tell you who I am.' ' Nay, we will not discover 
you,' said they, ' till ye bid us.' ' Truly, then, I am 
Grareth of Orkney, the son of King Lot and of King 
Arthur's sister ; and my brothers are Sir Grawaine, and 
Sir Agravaine, and Sir Graheris, and I am the youngest of 
them all. Yet neither Arthur nor Grawaine know who 
I am.' 

Then went a dwarf to the lady who was besieged, and 
brought the tidings that the youth was coming to her aid, 
and told her all his story from the hour when he was 
made a knight by Lancelot ; and the lady rejoiced at the 
news, and bade the dwarf go to an hermitage hard by, 
and make ready food and wine for the youth, that he 
might be refreshed. 

As the dwarf went back from the hermitage, he met 
the Knight of the Eed Lawns, who asked him whence he 
came : and the dwarf said that he had been with Dame 
Liones' sister, who had brought a knight with her. 
• Then is her labour but lost,' said the knight ; ' for were it 
Lancelot, Tristram, Lamorak, or Grawaine, I think myself 
good enough for them all. Is he, then, one of these 
four ? ' ' Nay, he is not,' said the dwarf, ' but he hath 
passed all the perilous passages, and conquered all with 
whom he has fought.' ' What is his name ? ' asked the red 
knight. < That will I not tell you,' said the dwarf, < but 
Sir Kay in scorn called him Prettyhands.' \ I care not,' 
answered the knight : ' whosoever he be, he shall die a 
shameful death.' 

On the morrow, the youth and the maiden Linet rode 



A rthur and his Knights. 125 

after mass through a fair forest, and came to a plain with 
a goodly castle and many pavilions and tents, and in one 
part were great trees on which hung the bodies of nearly 
forty knights. ' What means this ? ' asked the youth. 
6 These are the knights,' answered Linet, ' who sought to 
deliver my sister from the Knight of the Eed Lawns ; for 
all who are overcome by him die by a shameful death.' 
Then fast by a sycomore tree he saw a horn hanging, of 
elephant's bone. 'Blow not the horn,' said Linet, 'to 
challenge the red knight till it be noon, for till that hour 
his might increaseth, so that, as men say, he has the strength 
of seven men.' But the youth, heeding her not, blew the 
horn so eagerly that all the castle rang again; and the 
Red Knight of the Red Lawns armed him hastily, and blood 
red was his armour and his shield, and his men brought 
him a red spear and a red steed. 

' Be glad and light now,' said Linet to the youth, ' for 
yonder is your deadly foe, and at yonder window is my 
sister Liones.' When the youth looked up and saw her 
fair face as she looked down kindly upon him, he said that 
he could ask for no better quarrel, and that she alone 
should be his lady always. 

Then was fought a fight more fierce than any that had 
gone before. From prime to noontide, from noontide to 
evensong, their blows fell thick as hail, till all their bodies 
were gashed and men might see their bare flesh, as the 
blood streamed out in rivers. 

Then at last they stopped to rest, for their hands were 
too weary to strike more ; and as they bared their faces to 
the cool wind, the youth saw Liones looking down upon 
him lovingly from her window, so that his heart waxed 
light and merry, and he rose up to do battle again to the 
death. At the first the red knight had the best, but 
in the end the youth smote the sword out of his hand, and 
then he unlaced his helmet, as though he were about to 
slay him. Then the red knight yielded him to the youth's 



126 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

mercy; but Sir Grareth remembered the knights whose 
bodies he had seen hanging on the trees, and he said that 
he could show no mercy to murderers. c Nay, but hear 
me,' said the red knight. ' The lady of my love had her 
brother slain, she said, by Lancelot or Grawaine ; and she 
bade me promise, if I loved her, to put to a shameful 
death such knights as I might conquer.' Then came 
others also and prayed for the red knight's life ; and to 
those Sir Grareth said, ' I am loth to slay this knight, 
though he has done shamefully ; but he shall have his life 
if he will go first and yield him to the lady of the castle, 
begging her forgiveness, and thence go to King Arthur's 
court and ask mercy for all the evil that he has wrought.' 
Even so it came to pass ; and when the red knight 
yielded himself to Arthur and Gawaine, they marvelled 
who this youth might be who had borne himself so 
knightly. ' Marvel not,' said Lancelot, ' he shall do more 
wondrous things yet than these.' 'Thou knowest then 
his name and whence he comes,' said Arthur. ' Yea, I 
do ; but he charged me not to discover him until he bade 
me do so.' 

Now after the battle Sir Grareth hastened to the castle, 
for he was eager to talk with Liones ; but when he drew 
near to the gate, he found the drawbridge pulled up and 
the port closed ; and looking up he saw Liones at a 
window, who said, ' Gro thy way, Sir Knight, for I may 
not wholly give thee my love, till thou have a place 
among the number of the worthy knights. When twelve 
months have passed, thou shalt hear new tidings.' ' Alas ! ' 
said Grareth, ' I have served you well, and I weened not 
to be thus treated.' ' Nay,' said Liones, ' be not hasty nor 
wroth. Thy toil and thy love shall not be lost. Wherefore 
go on thy way with a merry heart, and trust me that ever 
I shall love thee and none other.' Then Grareth rode 
away, but all his strength was gone for very sorrow ; and 
that night he was lodged in a poor man's house, and as 



Arthur and his Knights. 127 

the hours wore on, still he writhed for the love of the lady 
of the castle. 

On the morrow he arose and rode to a broad-water, 
where three hours before noon he lay down to rest with 
his head on his shield, when he had given his horse to the 
dwarf, bidding him watch beside him. Meanwhile, Liones 
had called to her brother, Sir Gringamore, and charged 
him to go and bring away Sir Grareth' s dwarf, for she said, 
' Until I know his name and of what kindred he is come, 
I shall never be merry at heart.' So Sir Gringamore 
hasted and finding the dwarf watching by his master's side, 
he rode away with him as fast as he could to his own 
castle. But the dwarf, as he went, cried out aloud to 
Sir G-areth, and Grareth awaking saw Sir Gringamore 
hastening away. Then over hill and dale, through 
marshes and fields, he rode furiously after Gringamore, 
who had reached his castle and brought the dwarf before 
Liones. Then the lady asked him straightway of his 
master's name and kindred, and the dwarf made not much 
ado to tell her all, and then he prayed to be sent back to 
his lord again. But even as he spake, Sir Grareth came 
in at the gate with his drawn sword in his hand, and 
crying, ' Thou traitor, set free my dwarf, or I shall do thee 
all the harm that I can.' * Then would there have been 
hot words and hard blows, if Liones had not stayed her 
brother, and told him that now she sought for nought else 
but to speak with the knight who had rescued her out of 
the hand of the Knight of the Eed Lawns. So Sir Grringa- 
more went to Grareth and cried him mercy, and led him 
by the hand into the hall where his own wife was : and 
thither presently came Liones, and the youth could not 
take his eyes off her as she sat before him. 6 Would,' he 
said, ' that the lady of the Perilous Castle were so fair as 
she.' So ever, as the hours wore on, his love for her 
waxed greater and greater ; and Sir Gringamore, seeing 
it, told his sister that even if she was better than she was 



128 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

she would be well bestowed upon him, and after he had 
talked with her awhile, he went to Sir Grareth and said, 
6 My sister is yours, for she loves you as well as ye do her, 
and better if better may be.' Then answered Gareth, 
' There lives not a gladder man than I ; ' and he went to 
Liones and kissed her many times, and she promised to 
love him and none other all the days of her life, and told 
him withal that she was the lady for whom he had done 
battle before the Perilous Castle. 

In the night, as Grareth lay down to sleep in the hall, 
he saw coming towards him a knight with a grim coun- 
tenance, having a long battle-axe in his hand ; and 
leaping from his couch, he rushed at him with his drawn 
sword, and after a short while smote off his head from his 
body ; but he was bleeding so that he swooned away, and 
the cry of Liones who found him thus called forth Sir 
Grringamore, who asked how these things had been done. 
' I know not,' said Liones, ' for it was not done by me nor 
by mine assent.' Likewise said her brother, and they strove 
to stanch his bleeding as well as they might. Then came 
the damsel Linet, and taking up the head that had been 
smitten off anointed it with an ointment ; and when she 
placed it on the neck, the knight leaped up whole as 
he had been, and Linet put him in her chamber. Then 
said Grareth to her, ' I weened not that ye would thus deal 
by me ; ' but she said, ' Tarry yet awhile, and thou shalt 
see that all which I have done shall be for your honour 
and worship.' 

On the next night Grareth saw coming to him again 
the man whose head he had cut off, and there was 
again a fierce strife between them, until Grareth smote off 
his head again ; and this time he hewed it in pieces, 
and flung them out of a window into the castle ditch. 
But so had he strained himself that his old wound bled 
afresh, and he had swooned away when Liones and her 
brother came to him. Then as they strove to stanch the 



Arthur and his Knights. 129 

bleeding, Linet gathered the pieces of the head from the 
ditch of the castle, and anointed them as she had done 
before, and when she had put them together the knight 
was alive again. ' I have not deserved this at thy 
hands,' said Sir Grareth. 'Tarry yet a little,' answered 
the maiden, 4 and thou shalt see that I have done all for 
thy honour and worship.' 

At Pentecost, when Arthur made high festival, there 
came the green knight with fifty knights and yielded 
him to the king. After him came the red knight, 
and did homage with sixty knights, and after him the 
blue knight with an hundred knights ; and these three 
told how they had been overcome by a knight named 
Prettyhands, ' I marvel,' said the king, f what knight 
that is, and of what lineage he is come ; for he was with 
me a year, and but poorly was he fostered, and Sir Kay 
called him Prettyhands in scorn.' But even as he spake, 
Sir Lancelot came to tell him that there stood without a 
goodly lord with six hundred knights, and the king went 
to them and asked their errand. 6 Sir,' said the knight, 
6 1 am Sir Ironside, the Eed Knight of the Eed Lawns, and 
a knight named Prettyhands has charged me to yield 
myself to you ; and never until he came had knight been 
able to withstand me these thirty winters.' ' Ye are 
welcome,' said the king, c for I trust to have thee now as 
much my friend as thou hast been my foe, and if thou 
wilt hold of me I will make thee a knight of the Bound 
Table : but then thou must be no more a murderer.' 
c Yea,' said Sir Ironside, ' that I have sworn already to 
Sir Prettyhands, and now must I pray forgiveness from 
Sir Lancelot and Sir Grawaine.' ' Grod forgive you,' said 
they, ' as we do ; and we pray you tell us where we may 
find Sir Prettyhands.' ' That I cannot tell,' said Sir 
Ironside. Then as all spake in his praise, the king said, 
* I shall do you honour for the love of Sir Prettyhands, 
and as soon as I meet with him, I will make you all 



1 30 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

upon one day knights of the Bound Table.' Then 
turning to Sir Persant, the red knight, he said, ' I 
marvel that I hear not of the black knight, thy brother,' 
and they told the king how he had been slain by Sir 
Prettyhands. 

Now while yet they kept the feast there came the 
Queen of Orkney, Arthur's sister ; and her three sons, 
Grawaine, Agravaine, and Graheris, knelt at her feet to ask 
her blessing. But turning to the king she asked, ' What 
have ye done with my youngest son, Grareth ? He was 
amongst you for a year, and ye made him a kitchen 
knave, which is shame to you all.' ' Alas ! mother,' said 
Sir Grawaine, ' I knew him not.' ' Nor I,' said the king, 
4 but he is now a worshipful knight as is any now living, 
and I shall never be glad till I may find him. But, 
sister, ye might have warned me of his coming, and then 
if I had not done well to him ye might have blamed me.' 
So the king told her all his story, and his sister said 
that she had sent him forth right well-armed and horsed, 
and with plenty of gold and silver. ' We saw none of this,' 
said Arthur, ' till the day when he went away, and then 
some knights told me that a dwarf had come bringing 
him a goodly horse and splendid armour, and we 
marvelled all whence those riches might come.' Then 
said the Queen of Orkney, ' I marvel that Sir Kay did 
mock and scorn him, and yet he named him more 
righteously than he thought, for, I dare say it, he is a 
man as fair-handed and well disposed as any living.' 
c Sister,' said Arthur, ' let all this pass, and be merry, 
for he is proved to be a right true man, and that is my 
joy. 5 

Then would Grawaine and his brethren go forth to 
seek their brother, but Sir Lancelot stayed them and 
counselled the king to send messengers to the Perilous 
Castle, bidding Liones come to the court in all haste. 
When Sir Grareth heard this, he said to Liones, ' That is 



Arthur and his Knights. 131 

because of me, and I would have you now advise the 
king that he hold a tourney on the feast of the 
Assumption of our Lady, and to say that what knight 
there proves him best shall wed you and have your land.' 
Even so Liones gave' this counsel to the king, and with 
all care they made ready for the tournament. Then at 
Linet's bidding Liones sent for Sir Persant of Inde, and 
for Sir Ironside, to come with all their knights, and 
through many countries far and wide was the cry made 
that men should come to the Perilous Castle beside the 
isle of Avilion, and there choose which side they should 
take in the tourney. So were gathered together kings 
and princes, barons and chiefs, and noble knights 
from England and from Scotland, from Brittany and 
Wales, and Grareth prayed Liones and her knights that 
there should none of them tell his name. Then said 
Liones to G-areth, ' I will lend you a ring which I pray 
you give back to me when the tournament is done, for it 
increaseth my beauty much more than it is of itself ; and 
its virtue is that that which is green it will turn to red, 
red to green, blue to white, and white to blue, and so 
with all manner of colours. Moreover, he who bears this 
ring shall lose no blood.' 

So when the day was come, and the mass was done, the 
heralds blew the trumpets, and the knights came together 
in the fight, and many knightly deeds were done on 
both sides. But of Sir Grareth all men marvelled who he 
might be that one time seemed green and another time 
blue or red, and before whom every knight went down. 
6 Truly,' said King Arthur to Lancelot, ' that knight with 
the many colours is a good knight. Gro thou and en- 
counter with him.' ' Nay,' said Lancelot, ' when a good 
knight has had so great labour, it is no good deed to rob 
him of his worship ; and it may be that he is best beloved 
by the lady of the Perilous Castle among all that be here. 
Therefore, as for me, this day he shall have the honour, 

k2 



132 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

for though it lay in my power to put him from it, I would 
not.' 

At the last, when Sir Grareth had wrought wondrously 
among all the knights, he rode out on the one side to 
drink ; and his dwarf said, ' Give me your ring, that you 
lose it not while you drink.' So he left the ring with the 
dwarf, who knew now that Sir Grareth would be made 
known ; for now, wherever he was seen, he was in yellow 
colours which changed not. And at Arthur's bidding the 
heralds came and saw written in letters of gold about his 
helm, ' This helm is Sir Grareth's of Orkney : ' and they 
cried aloud, that all might hear, 6 This is Sir Grareth, of 
Orkney, King Lot's son.' When Grareth saw that he was 
discovered, he doubled his strokes and smote down his 
brother Sir Grawaine. ' brother,' said Grawaine, ' I 
thought not ye would strike me.' Then Grareth gat him 
out of the press, and bade the dwarf yield up the ring, 
that so men might know him no more. So he took it, and 
then they all wist not what had become of him ; and 
afterwards he took counsel with the dwarf, who bade him 
send the ring back to Liones, and say that he would come 
when he might. With this message the dwarf hastened 
to the lady, while Sir Grareth rode amid thunder and rain 
through a dark forest until he came to a castle, and prayed 
the porter to let him in, for he was sore wearied. Then 
the porter went to tell the duchess that a knight of Arthur's 
court prayed for lodging, and the duchess rose up and came 
to Grareth and said, ' Sir Knight, the lord of this castle 
loves not King Arthur nor his court ; and therefore it were 
better thou shouldest not come within this castle. If thou 
dost come, it must be under pledge that thou wilt yield 
thyself to him in whatsoever place thou mayest meet him.' 
So Grareth promised, and then she let the drawbridge down, 
and there he rested that night. 

On the morrow he rode to a mountain where a knight 
named Bendelaine sought to bar his way, and Grareth 



Arthur and his Knights. 133 

smote him so that Bendelaine rode to his own castle and 
there died. But when Grareth drew near to it, there came 
out twenty of Bendelaine's men, who slew Cfareth's horse 
when they saw that they could overcome him in no other 
way. But when he was on foot, they prevailed none the 
more against him. At the last, when he had well nigh 
slain them, he took the horse of one of them, and rode till 
he came to a castle where he heard great cries and moan- 
ing of women ; and he asked a page, who passed by, what 
these sounds might mean. And the page said that there 
lived here a pitiless knight who had shut up thirty ladies 
in his dungeons. This knight Sir Grareth fought with 
and slew ; and going into the castle, he set the ladies 
free. On the morrow morn, when he went to mass, he 
saw the thirty ladies kneeling upon divers tombs, and he 
knew that in those tombs lay their lords, whom the piti- 
less knight had slain. Then he charged them to go at the 
next feast of Pentecost to the court of King Arthur and 
say that Sir Grareth had sent them thither. After this he 
went his way, and met the Duke de la Rowse, the husband 
of the duchess in whose castle he had lodged, and would 
have yielded himself to him. But the duke would have 
him fight ; and Grareth smote him, and conquered him, 
and charged him to go and yield himself to King Arthur ; 
and when the duke was gone, there came another knight 
with whom he fought, and so fierce was the strife that the 
blood ran in 'streams upon the ground. At last there 
came the maiden Linet, and when she saw them, she 
cried aloud, ' Sir Grawaine, Sir Grawaine, leave thy fighting 
with thy brother Sir Grareth.' So soon as he heard these 
words, he threw away his sword, and running to his brother 
took him in his arms and craved his mercy. Then they 
embraced each the other, and wept a great while before 
they could speak : and Sir Grawaine besought Linet to go 
to the king, and tell him in what plight he was. And 
she found Arthur but two or three miles off, and the king 



1 34 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

hastened on his palfrey : but when he drew nigh to the 
place where Grawaine and Grareth were seated on the hill 
side, he sought to speak but could not, and he sank down 
in a swoon for gladness. So they hastened to their uncle 
and bade him be of good comfort ; and the king was right 
glad, but withal he wept as he had been a child. And 
after him came Arthur's sister, their mother, and she too 
swooned away for gladness. There they tarried for eight 
days till the wounds of Grawaine and Grareth were healed. 
Then said Arthur to Linet, ' Why comes not thy sister to 
see a knight who hath loved her so well and wrought so 
much for her ? ' And Linet said, ' She knows not that he 
is here.' Then the king bade her go and charge Liones 
to come straightway ; and when she was come, he asked 
Grareth whether he would have her for his wife. ' Yea,' 
said Grareth, i I love her above all women living.' And of 
Grareth Liones said, ' He is my first love, and he shall be 
my last.' So was it agreed that they should be married 
on the coming Michaelmas at Kinkenadon by the sea; 
and Grareth sent his summons to all the knights and ladies 
whom he had conquered or rescued, that they should be 
on his marriage-day at Kinkenadon on the sands. So 
upon Michaelmas-day, they were wedded by the Bishop of 
Canterbury, and on the same day Graheris wedded the 
damsel Linet, and Agravaine married Dame Laurel : and 
at the high feast which followed Arthur made Sir Persant 
of Inde and his two brothers, and the Red Knight of the 
Eed Lawns, and the Duke de la Rowse, knights of the 
Bound Table. But when the justs were done, Sir Lamorak 
and Sir Tristram departed suddenly, and at this the king 
and his fellows were sore displeased. 



Arthur and his Knights. 135 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE HISTORY OF SIR TRISTRAM. 

Among tile kings who held their lands of Arthur was 
Meliodas, King of Liones, who had a meek and gentle 
wife named Elizabeth. But there was another lady who 
loved him, and one day when he was hunting she lured 
him to chase a hart by himself alone, till he came to a 
castle where she made him prisoner. Sore was the grief 
of Elizabeth when her lord came not back, and she went 
forth to search for him through the dark forest, and there 
was her child born, and then she knew that she must die. 
So as her strength failed her, she bade the woman who 
was with her to carry the child to the king. ' Let him 
call it Tristram,' she said ; ' for he is the child of sorrow. 
Ah, my child ! as thou hast brought so much woe at thy 
birth, thou art full likely to be a manly man in thine age.' 
But Merlin rescued King Meliodas from his prison, 
and when he came home there he found the child of 
sorrow, and they told him that the fair and gentle lady, 
his wife, was dead. For seven years the king abode 
lonely in his grief, and then he married the daughter of 
Howel, the King of Brittany, and when this queen saw 
her children around her she hated Tristram, and placed 
poison in a silver cup that the boy might drink it and 
die. But her eldest son spied the cup, and he drank of 
it and straightway fell dead. Yet she put more poison 
in the cup ; and when King Meliodas came in and would 
have drunk the wine, she dashed the cup from his hand. 
'Ah, traitress ! ' said the king, for he remembered that her 
son had fallen dead suddenly, ' tell me what manner of 
drink this is, or I will slay thee.' So she told him all, and 
she was judged to be burnt. But when they tied her 
to the stake, Tristram besought his father for a boon. 



136 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

' What wouldst thou have ? ' asked the king. ' The life of 
the queen,' answered Tristram. 'Nay,' said the king, 
' that is not rightly asked, and chiefly for thy sake she ought 
to die.' Nevertheless, Tristram prayed yet again for her 
life, and the king gave word that it should be as he desired, 
but he would no more have Tristram abide at his court. 
So he sent him to France for seven years, and at the end 
of that time the boy came back again to his home. There 
he learnt to be a harper passing all other harpers that ever 
lived ; and more than all others he had skill in hunting 
and hawking, and all the names that are for those sports 
were made by him. 

Now it came to pass that the King of Ireland sent a 
messenger to King Mark of Cornwall to ask truage for his 
kingdom. And King Mark said, ' I will pay truage no 
more : if it please your master let him send a knight 
to do battle for him, and I will find another to do battle 
for me.' Then the King of Ireland prayed Sir Marhaus, 
who was a knight of the Eound Table, to fight for his 
cause ; and King Mark, when he came, knew not whom he 
might set in array against him, for no knight of the Eound 
Table would fight with him. So as his messengers sped 
throughout the land, Tristram heard the tidings, and 
having sought leave of his father, he hastened to King- 
Mark and said, 6 1 come from King Meliodas, who wedded 
thy sister ; make me a knight, and I will fight with 
Sir Marhaus.' Then King Mark welcomed him joyfully, 
and though he saw that he was but a youth, he made him 
a knight, and sent a messenger to Sir Marhaus with letters 
saying a knight would come forth presently to do battle 
with him. ' It may well be,' said Sir Marhaus, c but go 
back and say I fight with none who is not of royal blood.' 
When King Mark heard this he said to Tristram, 'Who art 
thou ? ' and he answered, ' I am the son of King Meliodas, 
and the child of thy sister, who died in the forest when I 
was born.' Then was King Mark right glad, and he sent 



Art her and his Knights. 137 

letters to Sir Marhaus to say that it was even the son of a 
king* and queen who should do battle with him : and Sir 
Marhaus also was well pleased. 

Long they fought together, until at last Sir Marhaus 
wounded Tristram in his side with his spear ; and when 
they had fought for many hours more, Tristram waxed 
stronger and smote with his sword through the helmet of 
Marhaus so fiercely that the sword stuck in the helm, and 
when he pulled it out, a piece of the blade was left in the 
head of Sir Marhaus. Then Sir Marhaus tied groaning, 
and would turn no more to fight with Sir Tristram ; and he 
sailed away to Ireland, but he had not been many days in 
the king's house when he died, and the piece of Tristram's 
sword was found in his head, and the queen kept it. 

But Tristram also was sore wounded, for the spear of 
Marhaus was poisoned ; and there came a wise woman 
who said that he might never be healed but in the land 
from which the venom came. So Tristram went into the 
ship with his harp, and came to the court of the King of 
Ireland, and at the gate he harped so sweetly that the king 
sent for him and welcomed him gladly, and gave him in 
trust to his daughter Isolte, to heal him. And so she did : 
but with the healing she gave him also her love, for he 
taught her to harp, and she could not withstand the spell 
of his sweet music. But another knight loved Isolte, 
and he was Sir Palamides the Saracen. 

Now it came to pass that the King of Ireland proclaimed 
a great tourney for the lady of the lawns, who should be 
given to be wife of the knight who should do most valiantly. 
Then said Isolte to Tramtrist, (for so had he called himself 
since he came to her father's house,) 'Wilt thou not just 
in this tourney ? ' ' I am but a young knight,' answered 
Tristram, ' and in my first battle I was sore wounded : but 
if thou wilt keep my name secret, I will go forth to the 
field.' ' Do so,' she said, 'and I will bring thee a horse 
and armour.' When the day came for the justing to 



138 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

begin, Sir Palamides came with a black shield and smote 
down many knights of the Eound Table ; and on the second 
day too he was doing wondrously, when the fair Isolte 
arrayed Tramtrist in white harness and placed him on a 
white horse ; and he came into the field as it had been a 
bright angel ; and when he had smitten down Sir Palamides, 
he charged him to forsake the maiden Isolte, and to wear no 
harness for a twelvemonth and a day. Then was Tramtrist 
in great honour ; but as he tarried yet in the house of the 
King of Ireland, it chanced that the queen saw his sword 
in his chamber, and when she took it up, she marked that 
a piece was lacking from the edge. In great wrath she 
hastened to fetch the piece that was found in the head of 
Sir Marhaus ; and when she fitted it to the sword, the 
weapon was whole. Then fiercely griping the sword, she 
hurried to the bath where Tristram lay, and would have 
slain him, but a knight who was with him thrust her back. 
And when she was thus hindered, she went to the king to 
make her plaint against Tramtrist, saying that he was the 
traitor knight who had slain Sir Marhaus. ' Leave me to 
deal with him,' said the king. So he sent for Tristram, 
and said, ' Tell me all thy story, and if thou hast slain Sir 
Marhaus.' So he told him all and the king was well satis- 
fied, but he said, ' I may not maintain you here, unless I 
displease my barons, my wife, and her kin.' Then 
answered Tristram, ' I go my way ; but ever shall I bear 
in mind your kindness, and the goodness of your daughter, 
who healed me of my grievous wound ; and of her now let 
me take farewell.' 

So was Tristram brought unto Isolte the Fair ; and there 
was great sorrow between them when he told her all his 
story, and why he had hidden his name from her, and how 
that he must now depart from the land. ' All the days of 
my life,' he said, ' I shall be your knight ; ' and he gave 
her a ring and she gave him another ; and he went his 
way and sailed to Cornwall, and went first to his father 



Arthur and his Knights. 139 

Meliodas and then to King Mark. But now the friendship 
of King Mark was changed to jealousy, for both he and 
Tristram loved the same lady, and she was the wife of the 
Earl Sir Segwarides. So it came to pass that the lady 
sent a dwarf to Tristram, praying him to come and help 
her ; and King Mark heard it, and when Tristram set 
forth, he hastened after him, and both were wounded in 
the fight ; and Tristram rode forth bleeding to the lady's 
house, and there she made him good cheer, and would 
have him tarry with her ; but there came tidings that the 
earl was nigh at hand, and Tristram hastened away, and 
after him presently rode the earl, who was smitten as King 
Mark had been smitten before him. 

Yet a few days, and there came a knight of the Eound 
Table, and at his prayer King Mark promised to give him 
whatsoever he might ask. And the knight asked for the 
fairest lady in the court, 6 and this is the wife of Sir Seg- 
warides.' So he took her away, but the earl was wroth 
and rode after the knight, and again he was smitten ; and 
the tidings were brought to the court of King Mark. 
Then was Tristram ashamed and grieved, and hurrying 
away he came up with the knight, who, after a sore battle, 
yielded him, and it was agreed between them that the 
lady should go with the man whom she might choose. So 
she stood before Tristram and said, ' Thou wast the man 
whom I most loved and trusted, and I weened that thou 
hadst loved me above all : but when this knight led me 
away, thou didst suffer the earl, my lord, to ride after me 
to rescue me, and therefore now will I love thee no more? 
and I pray this knight to lead me to the abbey where my 
lord lieth.' And even so it was done. 

But so great now was the hatred of King Mark for Tris- 
tram that he sought how he might destroy him : and he 
charged him to go to Ireland and bring back for him the 
fair Isolte to be his bride. So he set off with the good- 
liest knights that were in the court : but the winds drove 



140 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

back the ship to Camelot ; and at this time it chanced 
that the King of Ireland was summoned to Arthur's court 
on pain of forfeiting his lands and the king's good grace, 
and when he was come, Sir Blamor de Granis charged him 
with having slain his brother ; wherefore the King of 
Ireland must fight either with his own body or by his 
champion. When Sir Tristram heard these things from 
his esquire, he rejoiced that he might now requite all the 
kindness which he had received at the hands of the king 
in his own country, and he hastened to him and said that 
he would fight in his quarrel if he would only swear that 
he had not been consenting to the knight's death, and that 
after the battle he would give him the reward for which 
he might ask. So fought Tristram with Blamor de Granis 
who would not yield him when he had been smitten, but 
desired Tristram that he should slay him forthwith. At 
this Tristram started back, for he thought it foul shame 
that so brave a knight should be slain, and he besought 
the judges of the field that they would take the matter 
into their own hands. So after much striving, they took 
up Sir Blamor, and he and his brother were made friends 
that day with the King of Ireland and Sir Tristram. 

After this the king asked Tristram what boon he desired 
to have ; and Tristram said, ' Give me Isolte the Fair, to 
be the wife of mine uncle King Mark, for so have I pro- 
mised him.' 6 Nay,' said the king, ' far rather would I 
that thou shouldst take her for thyself : but if thou wilt 
give her to thine uncle, thou mayest do so.' 

So was Isolte taken to the ship; but the queen her 
mother had given unto her damsel Brengwaine a drink 
that Isolte and King Mark might drink to each other on 
the day of their wedding, and then must they love each 
other all the days of their life. But it so happened that 
while the ship was yet on the sea, as Isolte and Tristram 
sat in the cabin, they spied the little golden vessel, and 
Tristram said, ' Here is the best wine that ever ye drank, 



Arthur and his Knights. 141 

which Brengwaine and my esquire have kept for them- 
selves.' Then they drank to each other, and when they 
had so done, they loved each other so well that never their 
love departed for weal or for woe. But there were hard 
things to be done yet, before they should come to the 
palace of King Mark, for the ship was driven to the 
Weeping Castle, which was so called because all knights 
who came thither had to fight with the lord of the castle, 
and if the ladies who came with them were less fair than 
the lady of the castle, they must lose their heads, but the 
lady of the castle must lose hers, if any stranger should 
come fairer than she. And so now it came to pass, for 
Isolte was judged fairer far, and the head of the lady of 
the castle was stricken off; and afterward Tristram slew 
Sir Brennor, her lord. 

Now Sir Brennor the Savage was the father of the good 
knight Sir Gralahad, who now fought against Tristram, 
aided by the king with the hundred knights ; and Tristram 
yielded himself, more for the number of Gralahad' s men 
than for the might of his hands. Then Gralahad sware 
friendship with him, for he hated the evil customs of his 
father and his mother whom Tristram had slain ; and he 
besought Tristram to go to Sir Lancelot du Lake. Then 
said Tristram, ' Of all the knights in the world I most 
desire his fellowship.' 

Then they went again to the sea, and came to the city 
of King Mark, and there were the king and Isolte richly 
wedded. But some who were moved by hate and envy 
took the maiden Brengwaine, and bound her hand and foot 
to a tree, where Sir Palamides found her and took her to a 
monastery, that she might regain her strength. But 
Isolte so grieved for the maiden's loss that she wandered 
into a forest, where by a well she met Sir Palamides, who 
promised to bring Brengwaine safe and sound, if Isolte 
would do the thing for which he might ask. And so glad 
was she of his offer, that unadvisedly she promised to 



T42 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

grant that which he might desire. In a little while he 
came back with Brengwaine, and bade Isolte remember 
her promise, which he could not ask her to fulfil save in 
the presence of King Mark : and in turn Isolte bade him 
remember that, albeit she had promised largely, she had 
thought no ill, and no ill would she do. 

So Palamides rode after them, and when he saw King 
Mark he told him all that had happened, and demanded 
that the queen should do as she had promised. Then 
said the king, < That which she has sworn must she do,' 
and Palamides answered, ' I will, then, that she go with 
me whithersoever I may lead her.' ' Take her,' said the 
king in wrath, < for, as I suppose, ye will not keep her 
long.' So soon as they were gone the king sent for 
Tristram, but when he could nowhere be found, another 
knight said that he would go and fight with Sir Palamides. 
As these two knights fought, the fair Isolte sped away and 
a good knight who found her by a well-side led her to- 
wards his castle, and when Palamides came up the gates 
were shut, and he sat down before the gate like a man 
that is mazed. Thither soon came Tristram, and there 
was a fierce strife, in which Sir Palamides was smitten 
down, but the queen prayed for his life ; and when Tris- 
tram had granted it, she said to Palamides, 'Take thy 
way to the court of King Arthur, and commend me to 
Queen Gruenevere, and tell her from me that within this land 
there are but four lovers ; and these are Sir Lancelot of 
the Lake and Queen Gruenevere, and Sir Tristram of Liones 
and Queen Isolte.' 

Then was there great joy when Tristram brought the 
queen back ; but there was a traitorous knight named 
Andred who sought to do a mischief to his cousin Sir Tris- 
tram, and told false tales to King Mark, who believed 
his lies, and would have slain Tristram. But Tristram 
smote him down with the flat of his sword, and then 
taking his horse rode into the forest, where a troop of 



Arthur and his Knights. 143 

King Mark's men attacked him, but he killed some and 
wounded thirty more. Then King Mark took counsel 
with his barons what they should do, and they advised him 
to take Tristram into his grace, ' for,' said they, ' if he goes 
to King Arthur's court, he will get such friends there that 
he may well avenge himself of your malice.' 

About this time it came to pass that as Sir Lamorak 
was riding with another knight, there came up one sent by 
Morgan le Fay, bringing with him for King Arthur a horn 
of such virtue that no women might drink of it but such 
as were true to their husbands, and if they were false, they 
would spill all the drink. 6 Now,' said Lamorak to this 
knight, ' thou shalt bear this horn not to King Arthur but 
to King Mark ; and if not, thou shalt die. And say to 
him that I sent the horn that he may make trial of his 
wife.' When the knight had carried this message to the 
king, a hundred ladies were made to drink of the horn, 
and the wine was spilled by all save four : and they who 
spilled it were adjudged to be burnt. Then the barons 
gathered together and said plainly that they would not 
suffer this, because the horn came from as false a sorceress 
as any living ; and many vowed that if they came across 
Morgan le Fay, they would show her scant courtesy. 

But still Sir Andred played the spy on Sir Tristram and 
the fair Isolte ; and one day when they were together, he 
set upon him suddenly with twelve knights and bound him 
hand and foot, and they led him to a chapel upon the sea 
rocks, there to take his judgment. When Tristram saw 
that there was no help but he must die, he brake 
silence and bade them remember how many good deeds 
he had done for King Mark and for his people. But Sir 
Andred reviled him, and drew his sword upon him. Then 
suddenly Tristram pulled in his arms and got his hands 
free, and leaping on Sir Andred he wrested his sword from 
him, and when he had smitten down Andred, he slew ten 
other knights. But when he saw the people draw nigh to 



144 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

him, he shut fast the chapel door, and breaking the bars 
of a window threw himself out upon the crags. There 
his esquire and some knights that were his friends saw him 
and lifted him up, and when he asked where Isolte was, 
they told him that she had been placed in a leper's house. 
6 She shall not be long there,' said Tristram, and with his 
men he rescued her and carried her away into a forest, and 
there abode with her. But one day while he slept in the 
wood, a man whose brother he had slain shot him through 
the shoulder with an arrow, and Tristram leaped up and 
killed the man ; but the wound wrought him sore mis- 
chief, for the arrow with which he was hurt was poisoned. 
When Isolte the Fair heard it, she sent a damsel to Tris- 
tram, saying that she might not help him, because she 
was strictly shut up by King Mark, but bidding him go to 
Brittany to King Howel, whose daughter, Isolte of the 
White Hands, should heal him of his wound. And even so 
it came to pass ; and Tristram did great deeds against the 
enemies of the king, and there grew up great love between 
him and Isolte, and at last she became his wife. When the 
tidings of this marriage were brought to Sir Lancelot, he 
said, ' Of all knights in the world I loved Tristram most ; 
but now that he is false to his first love, Isolte the Fair, 
the love between him and me is done for ever, and from 
this day forth I am his deadly foe.' And Isolte the Fair, 
when she heard that Tristram was wedded, wrote a letter 
to Queen Gruenevere, telling her how she had been forsaken 
by the man whom most she had loved. Then wrote Gue- 
nevere, bidding her be of good cheer, 'for although by crafts 
of sorcery ladies might make noble knights like Tristram 
wed them, yet in the end it shall be thus, that he shall 
hate her and love you better than ever he had done 
before.' 

Not long had Tristram been wedded when he went 
with his wife in a little barge ; but the wind blew them 
away to the coast of Wales, to an island on which was Sir 



Arthur and his Knights. 145 

Lamorak, and there the barge was broken on the shore, 
and Isolte of the White Hands was hurt. By a well on 
that island, Tristram saw Sir Segwarides and a damsel, and 
Segwarides said, ' I know you for the man whom I have 
most cause to hate, because ye took away from me the 
love of my wife ; but I will never hate a noble knight for 
a false woman ; wherefore I pray thee now to stand by me, 
for we are sore bestead. Here dwells the giant Sir Nabon, 
who slays all the knights that he can seize of Arthur's 
court ; and there is one of his knights wrecked upon these 
rocks, and we will bid the fishers bring him hither.' When 
he was come, Tristram knew Lamorak, but Lamorak 
knew not him ; but when Tristram told him his story, 
and that his malice had not much hurt him, they made 
peace together, and fought with Sir Nabon and his 
knights. And Tristram slew Nabon and his son; and 
then all the people of the land said that they would hold 
of Sir Tristram. ' Nay ' said Tristram, ' that may not be ; 
but here is the good knight Sir Lamorak who shall rule 
over you wisely and justly.' But neither would Lamorak 
have it, and so the land was given to Segwarides, who 
governed it worshipfully. And Lamorak went his way, 
doing many knightly deeds, to the court of King 
Arthur. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE MADNESS OE SIR TEISTEAM. 



Now there came at this time to the king a young man 
of a goodly form, whose coat, of rich golden cloth, sat ill 
across his shoulders. And when Sir Kay knew that he 
was named Sir Brennor the Black, he said that he 
should be called the Knight of the Ill-shapen Coat, for 
he thought scorn of him as he had done of the knight 

L 



146 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

whom lie called Prettyhands. But when the king 
asked why he wore that coat, the young man said that 
his father was hewn to death in it by his enemies, who 
fell on him when he was asleep, and that he would wear 
it until he had revenged that deed upon them. Then he 
besought King Arthur to make him a knight, and 
Lamorak and Graheris prayed him likewise, for they 
said, ' Even such a one was Sir Lancelot when he first 
came to this court, and now he is proved the mightiest 
knight in the world.' But before the king was able to 
knight him, the youth had done a great deed, for as he 
was left behind with Queen Gruenevere a lion brake loose 
from a stone tower, and came furiously towards her, and 
while others fled for fear, the knight of the ill-shapen robe 
clave his head asunder. Wherefore he was made knight 
with the more honour. 

That same day came a damsel bearing a shield, and she 
asked whether any knight there would take up the task 
which the owner of it had left undone, because he was 
sorely wounded : and when all others stood silent, the 
knight of the ill-shapen coat laid his hand on the shield 
and said that he would go. But the damsel reviled him, 
like the maiden who had reviled Sir Prettyhands, and 
she said, ' If thou wilt follow me, thy skin shall be as well 
hewn as thy coat.' c Nay,' said the youth, ' when I am so 
hewn, I will ask you no salve to heal me withal.' As 
they went on their way together, they were met by two 
knights, each of whom unhorsed the youth ; but he said, 
c I have no disworship for this, for neither would dismount 
and fight with me on foot.' Not long afterwards, a 
hundred knights assailed him at once ; and he got off his 
horse and put himself against a chamber-wall, for he 
wished rather to die thus than to bear the rebukes of the 
damsel of the evil words : but as he stood and fought 
there, she came up slily and taking away the horse tied 
him by the bridle to the postern, and then, going to a 



Arthur and his Knights. 147 

window at his back, she called to him and said, ' Thou 
fightest wondrously well, Sir Knight ; but nevertheless 
thou must die, unless thou canst win thy way to thy horse, 
which I have tied up to abide thy coming.' Then with a 
mighty effort the youth threw himself upon the throng, 
and, cleaving down one and then another, reached his 
horse and rode away. But the maiden who was talking 
with Sir Mordred deemed that he was either slain or taken 
prisoner ; and when she saw the youth hastening towards 
her, she said that they had let him pass only as a dastard, 
and sent a messenger to ask how it came about that the 
knight of the ill-shaped coat had escaped from their 
hands. ' He is a fiend,' they said, 4 and no man. He has 
slain twelve of our best knights, and neither Tristram nor 
Lancelot could stand before him.' 

Then the youth rode with the damsel till they came 
unto the castle called Pendragon, where five knights set 
upon him with spears, and, taking him prisoner, led him 
into the castle. But Lancelot du Lake heard tell how he 
had been taken captive and placed in dungeons where 
were many other knights and ladies belonging to King- 
Arthur's court, and straightway fighting with the lord of 
the castle, he made him yield himself and swear to deliver 
up all his prisoners ; and so Sir Lancelot rescued the 
knight of the evil-shaped coat from the hands of Sir 
Brian of the Isles : and he charged the damsel never more 
to rebuke the youth. Then said the maiden, ' Think not 
that I rebuked him because I hated him ; nay, but I have 
loved him always ; ' and so likewise had the damsel spoken 
who rebuked Sir Prettyhands. ' Be it so,' said Sir 
Lancelot ; 4 and now thou shalt be called no more the 
Damsel with the Evil Words, but the Maiden of the Grood 
Thoughts.' Then he made the youth with the evil-shapen 
coat lord of the Castle of Pendragon and all its lands ; 
and there the youth wedded the maiden that had reviled 
him. 

L 2 



148 Poptilar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Now about this time, when Isolte the Fair had heard 
that Tristram was wedded to Isolte of the White Hands, 
she sent him letters as piteous as any that ever were 
written, beseeching him to come over with his bride, and 
saying that both would be right gladly welcomed. Then 
with Sir Kehydius, and the maiden Brengwaine, and his 
esquire, Tristram went into a ship, which the winds drove 
on the coasts of North Wales, near the Perilous Castle. 
There, riding away with Kehydius, Tristram met by the 
side of a well a knight with whom he justed ; and when 
he knew that it was Sir Lamorak of Wales, Tristram re- 
proved him for the sending of the horn to King Mark's 
court, and he said, ' Now must one of us twain die.' Yet 
so knightly did Lamorak bear himself, that Tristram 
forgave him, and became his friend, and they sware that 
neither should ever hurt the other. 

And now was King Arthur himself to face new perils, 
for the Lady Annowre, who was a great sorceress, came to 
him at Cardiff and by fair words made him ride with her 
into a forest, where she took him to a tower and sought to 
win his love. But the king thought only of Gruenevere, and 
when Annowre could prevail nothing with him, she sent him 
forth into the forest that he might be slain. But the Lady 
Nimue of the Lake knew her wiles, and she rode about 
until she met Sir Tristram and bade him hasten to the 
succour of a right noble knight who was hard bestead. 
6 It is King Arthur- himself,' she said ; and Tristram was 
sore grieved, and putting spurs to his horse he soon reached 
a place where two knights had unhorsed one, and a 
maiden, which was Annowre, stood by with a sword drawn 
in her hand ready to slay him. Then like a thunderbolt 
Tristram dashed down on those knights and slew them, and 
he cried to the king, ' Let not that lady escape ;' and Arthur 
seizing his sword smote off her head, which the Lady of 
the Lake bare away at her saddle-bow. Then Sir Tristram 
placed the king on his horse and rode with him until they 



Arthur and his Knights. 149 

met Sir Ector de Maris, with whom he left King Arthur : 
but he would not as at this time tell the king his name. 

Then went Tristram back to his ship, and sailed away 
to Cornwall, and when they had landed, the maiden 
Brengwaine went with a knight to the court of King 
Mark to tell the queen that Tristram was nigh at hand. 
6 Let me speak with him,' said the fair Isolte, ' or my 
heart will break.' So the maiden went back and brought 
Tristram with Kehydius into a chamber which the queen 
had assigned. What joy there was now between Isolte the 
Fair and Tristram tongue cannot tell nor pen write, nor 
the heart think. But Kehydius too was smitten with the 
love of Isolte, so soon as he had seen her ; and of that 
love afterwards he died. And he wrote letters and 
ballads, the goodliest that were, to the queen, who in pity 
of his love and sorrow sent him a letter in return. This 
letter Tristram found one day when King Mark was play- 
ing at chess in the window : and full of grief and rage he 
rebuked Isolte for her treachery to him, and would have 
slain Kehydius ; but when Kehydius saw what Tristram 
would do, he leaped from a window and escaped. And 
Tristram also went his way from the Castle of Tintagil, 
heeding not whither he went. In vain the lady of a great 
castle sought to make him good cheer. He would neither 
eat nor drink, and he wandered away again into the forest, 
and there he played upon his harp and wept, until his sor- 
row drove him mad. Even so he abode for three months, 
lean of flesh and ragged in raiment, among herdmen and 
shepherds, who held him to be a fool ; and the , deeds of 
a fool he did in his madness and his misery. But a 
little while and there came false tidings that Tristram 
was dead : and Isolte the Fair would have slain herself in 
her frenzy, if the king had not caught her when she was 
going to fall upon a sword. So was Isolte placed in a 
strong tower and strictly guarded. 

But soon after this there came a knight to the palace 



150 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

of King Mark bearing a giant's head ; and he told the 
king how when this giant would have slain him, a naked 
fool who lay by a well-side came and smote off his head. 
6 1 will see that wild man,' said King Mark, and riding to 
the fountain, they found the man, but knew not that it 
was Tristram. Nor did any know him when he was 
brought into the king's palace, not even Isolte the Fair, 
so grievously was he changed. But the little dog which 
he had given to the queen when first he brought her to 
Cornwall leaped upon him for joy, and then Isolte, know- 
ing that Tristram was before her, swooned away for 
gladness. When she came to herself, she said but few 
words, for her heart was heavy. Only she prayed him 
to hasten to King Arthur's court, where he would be 
right welcome. ' If King Mark learns who thou art,' 
she said, ' he will seek to slay thee ; and as for me, 
whenever I may, I shall send unto you, and ever to my 
dying day thou hast all my love.' And even as Isolte 
said, it came to pass, for the little dog which would not 
leave Tristram made him known to Sir Andred, who told 
the king, and the king sought to have Tristram judged to 
death : but because some of the barons would not suffer 
this, Tristram was banished out of the country for ten 
years. Then stood up Tristram and said, ' Ye have given 
me a goodly reward for all my deeds. Ye have recom- 
pensed me well for delivering this land from truage, for 
bringing the fair Isolte from Ireland, for rescuing the 
wife of Sir Segwarides, for smiting down Sir Lamorak of 
Wales, for doing battle with the king of the hundred 
knights, for saving the queen from the hands of Palami- 
des, and for all else that I have done. Be ye sure I shall 
come again when I may.' And having thus said he de- 
parted ; and soon he fell in with a damsel who was seek- 
ing knights to come and help Sir Lancelot, for the queen 
Morgan Le Fay had placed thirty knights who should set 
upon him as he passed by. And these knights Sir Tris- 



Arthur and his Knights. 151 

tram and his comrade Sir Dinadan fought with, and part 
of them they slew and the rest they put to flight. 

But when Tristram had gone yet a little further, there 
met him another damsel, who told him that he should win 
much glory by doing battle with a knight who wrought 
great mischief in all that country. So he rode on with 
her, but after six miles Sir Grawaine met them, and he 
knew that the damsel was one of the maidens of Morgan 
le Fay, and his heart misgave him that she was leading 
away the knight to his hurt. So straightway drawing out 
his sword, he said, ' Tell me, damsel, whither thou art 
guiding this knight, or thou shalt die.' Then she cried 
for mercy, and told them how Morgan le Fay was plotting 
against Tristram the same treason which she had plotted 
against Sir Lancelot. 

Thus through Sir Grawaine Tristram escaped this peril, 
and after this King Arthur held a great tournament. On 
the first day Tristram won the prize, but on the second, 
after he had smitten down Sir Gaheris, he went his 
way, and none knew whither he had gone ; on the third 
day the prize was adjudged to Sir Lancelot, but he would 
not have it, for he said that by right it was Tristram's, 
who had done more than any other could do. But 
Tristram could not be found; and Lancelot with nine 
other knights sware that for a whole year they would not 
rest two nights in the same place until they had found 
Tristram and brought him back to the court. But 
Tristram was now shut up in the dungeons of Sir Darras, 
whose sons he had slain or wounded in the tourney ; and 
then Tristram again became sick almost unto death, and 
in his knightly pity Sir Darras let him go with his fellows 
on this covenant, that he should be a good friend to the 
two sons of Sir Darras who still remained alive. 



152 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 



CHAPTEE X. 

THE TREASONS OE KING MARK AND PALAMIDES. 

Now was the time come that Tristram should match him- 
self with King Arthur, and thus it came to pass. The king 
seeing him with the shield which Morgan le Fay had given 
him, asked him to describe the arms, and to say whence 
he had it. Then Tristram told the king who it was that 
had given him the shield, but the arms he knew not how 
to describe. ' Then,' said he, c tell rne your name.' But 
when Tristram would not, the king challenged him to 
fight, and after a fierce struggle the king was unhorsed, 
and he said, ' We have that which we deserved.' 

Then Tristram departed, and as he rode towards 
Camelot there met him a knight, clad all in white 
raiment, with a covered shield. And they fought together, 
not knowing who the other might be. At the last Sir 
Lancelot asked, ' Who art thou that tightest thus won- 
drously ? ' And Tristram said that he was loth to tell. 
' Nay,' answered Lancelot, ' I was never loth to tell my 
name to any that asked it.' ' Then,' said Tristram, c tell 
it to me now,' and when he knew that it was Sir Lance- 
lot, he said, ' What have I done, for thou art the man that 
I love best in the world ?' Then said Lancelot, ' Tell me thy 
name.' And when Tristram told him, Lancelot rushed 
down and yielded up his sword, and Tristram kneeling 
yielded his ; and many times they kissed each other, and 
then went on their way to Camelot, where they met with 
Grawaine and Graheris, and Lancelot said to them, ' Your 
quest is done, for here is Sir Tristram.' 

Great was the joy of King Arthur's court that this 
noble knight had come back ; and the king went to all the 
seats about the Round Table which lacked knights, and in 
the seat of Sir Marhaus, whom Tristram had slain, he saw 



Arthur and his Knights. 153 

the words written, ' This is the seat of the good knight 
Sir Tristram,' and so was Tristram made a knight of the 
Bound Table. 

But the more that his glory was spread abroad, the 
more King Mark of Cornwall hated him, and at last he left 
his own land to seek out Tristram and slay him : and 
strange things befell him as he went from one country to 
another, searching for him. For first he came to a foun- 
tain, and by it he heard Sir Lamorak of Wales making 
moan of his love for Arthur's sister, the wife of the King of 
Orkney, whom Pellinore slew : and when King Mark went 
to him and questioned him of his sorrow, Sir Lamorak 
knew him to be a Cornish knight, and rebuked him be- 
cause he served the most traitorous king that ever lived. 
Next he came to a castle, where the lieutenant knew him 
to be the man who had murdered his father, and the 
lieutenant said, ' For the love of my lord, I will not hurt 
thee whilst thou art here ; but when thou art beyond this 
lodging, I will do thee what harm I may, for thou didst 
slay my father treacherously.' And again another day he 
heard Sir Palamides as he mourned for his love of the fair 
Isolte, who would give no heed to his prayer. ' A fool am 
I to love thee,' he said, 'when thy love is given to 
Tristram only, and thou art the wife, of a coward and a 
traitor. Alas ! that ever so fair a lady should be matched 
with the most villanous knight of the world.' 

Then without a word King Mark hastened away to 
Camelot, where the knight Amant had charged him with 
treason before Arthur ; and the king bade him do battle 
with his accuser, and when they met, King Mark smote 
down Sir Amant, who was in the righteous quarrel. 

Great was the grief of Tristram when he saw Amant 
stricken down for the love of himself and of the fair Isolte : 
and when Lancelot saw Tristram weeping, he prayed the 
king to let him go after King Mark. But when King 
Mark saw Lancelot, he would not fight. Falling straight- 



154 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

way from his horse, he yielded himself as a recreant, and 
as a recreant was he brought back and shamed in King 
Arthur's court, and made to own himself the king's man. 
And the king said, ' This I bid thee, that thou shalt be a 
good lord to Sir Tristram, and that thou take him into 
Cornwall and cherish him there for my sake.' This King 
Mark sware to do, and as he had done many a time before, 
so now he sware falsely. Then said Lancelot to King 
Arthur, ' What hast thou done ? Knowest thou not that 
Mark is a traitor and a murderer ? ' And Arthur said, ' It was 
Tristram's own desire. I have made them of one accord : 
and what could I do more ? ' So as they went forth, 
Lancelot gave King Mark solemn warning. ' See that 
thou break not thy faith,' he said, ' with Sir Tristram : for 
if thou dost, with mine own hands I will slay thee.' 

At this time it was that Sir Agiavale brought to King 
Arthur a youg man whom he prayed him to knight ; and 
he was Sir Percivale of Wales. When all things were 
ready, a maiden who had ever been dumb came into the 
hall, and going to Sir Percivale led him by the hand to 
the right side of the Perilous Seat, and said, ' Take 
here thy seat, fair knight, for to thee it appertaineth and 
to no other.' And when she had so said she went away 
and died. 

Now the sons of the Queen of Orkney knew how Sir 
Lamorak loved their mother, and with the intent to slay 
him they sent for their mother to a castle near Camelot ; 
and there, while Sir Lamorak was with her, Sir Graheris 
came in with a drawn sword and smote off his mother's 
head. And great again was the grief in Arthur's court, 
that the sister of the king should thus be slain. 

But now were the tokens seen of yet greater evils ; for 
there came letters to Arthur from King Mark, bidding 
him look to himself and his wife and his knights, and not 
to meddle with the wives of others. When he had read 
this letter, he mused of many things, and he thought on 



Arthur and his Knights. 155 

the words of Morgan le Fay respecting Ghienevere and 
Lancelot ; but when he remembered how his sister hated 
the queen and Lancelot, he put away the thought. To 
Lancelot also King Mark sent letters ; and Lancelot took 
counsel respecting them with Sir Dinadan, who said, ' I 
will make a lay of King Mark and teach it to many 
harpers.' And the worst lay it was that ever harper sang 
to his harp. 

At this time came the men of Sessoins against King 
Mark to claim truage, and at the king's bidding Tristram 
did battle for him, and slew Sir Elias their leader. At 
the feast which followed, a harper came named Eliot, who 
sang Sir Dinadan's lay, and he escaped the king's vengeance 
only because he was a minstrel ; and he was driven forth 
from the king's presence. But the king added now other 
treasons to his old crimes, for he murdered his own brother 
the good knight Sir Baldwin, who had burnt the ships of 
the men of Sessoins by sending fire-ships among them ; and 
Baldwin's wife, the Lady Anglides, took his bloody sark and 
kept it secretly. But yet more did the king seek to slay 
her son Alisander the orphan, and he charged Sir Sadok to 
do the deed. By and by, Sir Sadok came back and told the 
king that he had drowned the child : but he had let him 
go free with his mother. So passed the years away until 
Alisander was grown up ; and on the day on which he was 
made a knight, his mother drew out the blood-stained 
doublet and placed it in his hands. 6 It is the shirt which 
thy father wore,' she said, ' when King Mark plunged the 
dagger in his heart.' And the young man said, ' Thou 
hast given me a great charge, my mother ; and I promise 
thee, I will be avenged on King Mark when I may.' 

When these tidings were brought to King Mark, he was 
sore dismayed, for he weened that Alisander was long ago 
dead, and he sought how to slay Sir Sadok, but Sir Sadok 
struck fear into his heart by his stern words ; and King 
Mark sent instead to Morgan le Fay, and prayed her to 



156 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

set the country on fire through her sorceries, so that in 
anywise Sir Alisander might be slain. So Morgan stirred 
against him the knight Malgrin ; and Sir Alisander fought 
with him, and although he was sorely wounded himself, 
yet slew he his enemy. Then Morgan le Fay took him 
to her own castle, and healed him of his wounds, when she 
had made him promise that for a twelvemonth and a day 
he would not pass the compass of the castle. And thus 
did he keep his oath. There came to him a damsel who 
said, ' If thou wilt give me thy love, I will deliver thee 
from Morgan le Fay, who keeps thee here that she may 
do with you as she will.' ' Tell me how thou wilt do this,' 
he said, < and thou shalt have my love.' Then she said, 
' I will send to my father, the Earl of Pase, and bid him 
come and destroy this castle, and after that thou shalt 
guard the ground on which it stands that none shall pass 
over it for a twelvemonth and a day.' And even so was 
it done ; and Alisander let the heralds make a cry that he 
would keep that spot against all knights who came. 
Among these knights came Ansirus the Pilgrim, who went 
every third year to Jerusalem : and for this cause his 
daughter who was with him was called Alice the Fair 
Pilgrim. And Alice said in the hearing of many knights, 
c He that overcometh the knight who keepeth that spot of 
ground where stood the castle of Morgan le Fay shall have 
me and all my lands.' But for all she said this, she went 
to Sir Alisander when he had smitten all the knights who 
went against him for the sake of Alice the Fair Pilgrim, 
and taking the bridle of his horse, she said, c Show me thy 
visage : ' and when she saw it she said, ' Thee must I love 
always, and never any other.' 6 Then lift thy wimple,' he 
said : and when he saw her face he said, ' Here have I found 
my love ;' and in this wise kept he his troth to the maiden 
who rescued him from the hands of Morgan le Fay. 

Meanwhile, there were fresh perils for Sir Tristram, for 
the counsel of certain knights, who hated Sir Lancelot 



Arthur and his Knights. 157 

and would have slain him, was revealed to King Mark, 
who thought to send forth Tristram so disguised that 
these knights, taking him to be Lancelot, should follow 
him and slay him. In the fight which presently came 
about between them Tristram smote down the knights, 
but he was sorely wounded himself, and King Mark came 
to him feigning to be sorry ; and saying that he would 
himself be his leech, he brought him to a castle and put 
him in a strong prison. But when there was a great 
outcry made among all good knights against this treason, 
King Mark thought how he might be rid of Tristram 
after another fashion. So he caused letters to be written 
in the Pope's name, bidding all good men go and fight 
against the Saracens at Jerusalem : and these letters he 
sent to Tristram, saying that if he would go forth on this 
errand, he should be set free. ' Bid King Mark go him- 
self,' said Tristram, ' I stir not.' Then King Mark caused 
other letters to be written in which he made the Pope 
name Tristram among those who should go to the Holy 
City ; but when Tristram looked at the letters, he knew 
whence they came, and he said, 4 A liar and a traitor he 
hath ever been, and ever will be.' Not long after this 
came Sir Percivale of Wales, and by his means was Tris- 
tram brought out of prison ; but although King Mark 
sware again to Percivale that he would do no more harm 
to Sir Tristram, yet he shut him up in prison again, be- 
cause he found him with the fair Isolte. Then from his 
prison Tristram sent letters to her, saying that now, if she 
would go with him, he would take her away into King 
Arthur's country, since the treasons of King Mark were 
no longer to be borne. So the queen devised that King- 
Mark should be shut up in prison, and while he was kept 
in bonds, she fled away with Tristram, and came to the 
court of King Arthur 

Eight glad was the king to welcome them ; and Sir 
Lancelot brought them to his own castle of Joyous Grard ; 



158 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

and the days for them passed by like a happy dream. 
Yet did Tristram achieve many great things ; and on one 
day he joined himself to Sir Dinadan who had made the 
lay on King Mark, and feigning to be but a poor feeble 
knight he thrust Dinadan on all manner of hard tasks, so 
that he was sorely buffeted and wounded, and then putting 
forth his might, he smote down all who sought to fight 
with him ; and much laughing and jesting there was 
afterward at Sir Dinadan for the toils which came upon 
him while he bare the helmet of Sir Tristram. So when 
this was told to the fair Isolte, she bade that Dinadan 
should be brought before her ; and when she asked him 
about Tristram, Dinadan marvelled that he and other 
knights could be so besotted upon women. ' What ! ' 
said Isolte, ' art thou a knight and no lover ? ' ' Nay,' 
said Dinadan, ' the joy of love is too short and the sorrow 
of it too long.' ' Say not so,' answered Isolte ; ' here have 
been knights who have fought with three at once for the 
love of a maiden. Will you fight for love of me with three 
knights who have done me great wrong ? ' ' Thou art a 
fair lady,' answered Dinadan, ' fairer than even Gruenevere : 
yet with three at once will I not fight whether for thee or 
for any other.' And all who heard him laughed ; and 
merry was the feast that day. 

At another time when Tristram went forth, he met a 
knight with whom he justed. For a long time neither 
prevailed against the other, but at last Tristram threw 
down his enemy, and he asked his name. 'I am Sir 
Palamides,' he said. ' What is the man whom thou most 
hatest ? ' asked Tristram. 6 It is Tristram of Liones ; and 
if I meet with him, one of us twain shall die.' ' Do thy 
worst then,' said Tristram, 6 for I am he.' But so was 
Sir Palamides astonished at these words that he prayed 
Tristram to forgive him all his evil will ; and so was their 
long enmity brought to an end. 

Then they went onward together for the great tourna- 



A rthur and his Knights. 159 

merit which King Arthur would hold at the Castle of 
Lonazep : and as they drew nigh to Humber bank, they 
saw corning towards them a rich vessel covered with red 
silk, and it came to land close to them, and on it was a fair 
bed whereon lay a dead man in whose hand was a letter, 
saying how King Hermanec, Lord of the Eed City, had 
been slain by two men whom he had most of all cherished 
and trusted, and beseeching the knights of King Arthur's 
court to send some one to avenge his death. ' I cannot go 
and avenge him,' said Tristram, ' for I have given a pledge 
that I will be at this tournament.' 'Then,' answered 
Palamides, ' I will go ; ' and the vessel bare him to the 
Eed City, where the people welcomed him joyfully. But 
they said, ' Thou must go again in the barge, until thou 
shalt come to the Delectable Isle, where is the castle of 
the men who murdered our king.' When he was come 
thither and had got out upon the land, there met him a 
knight who claimed the task of avenging King Hermanec 
as his own, but when this knight knew that it was Sir 
Palamides who had come to fight in this quarrel, he was 
right glad, and said, 6 There are three knights only whom 
I had rather have met than thee : and these are Lancelot, 
Tristram, and my nigh cousin Lamorak of Wales.' ' Ye 
say well,' said Palamides, ' and if I be slain, go ye to Sir 
Lancelot and Sir Tristram and bid them avenge my death, 
for as for Sir Lamorak, him shall ye never see again in 
this world.' ' Alas ! ' said the knight, ' how may that be ? ' 
' He is slain,' answered Palamides, ' by Sir Grawaine and 
his brethren, who slew their own mother because she 
loved him; but Sir Grareth, the fifth brother, and the 
best knight of them all, was away, and had nought to do 
with these foul deeds.' 

Now were the tidings brought to the murderers of King 
Hermanec that Sir Palamides had come, an unchristened 
knight, to avenge him. ' If he be unchristened,' they 
said, ' christened he never will be, if he fights with us.' 



160 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

But for all their boasting, the two brothers were slain by 
the Saracen knight Palarnides, who hastened away after 
this to the Castle of Lonazep, where he found not Tristram, 
for he had not yet come with the fair Isolte from Joyous 
G-ard. So to Joyous Grard he went, and he saw once more 
the lady he had ever loved, Isolte the Fair; and so 
ravished was he with her beauty that he could scarcely 
speak or eat. 

And from Joyous Grard they rode to Lonazep, as the 
time for the great tournament drew nigh ; and there 
Tristram appeared before King Arthur, but he would not 
tell his name, although Arthur besought him much, 
neither would he say upon which party he would hold in 
the justing. But afterwards he took counsel with Sir 
Palarnides, who said that they should be against Arthur, 
who would have the greatest knights on his side, 6 and 
the greater they are, the more worship shall we win, if we 
be better than they.' So on the morning Tristram and 
Palarnides with Sir Dinadan and Grakeris rode forth clad 
all in green, and the fair Isolte rode with them. And 
when King Arthur saw them, he asked who they might 
be : but none knew. Then he said, ' See by the names 
in the sieges which of the knights of the Pound Table are 
not here with us.' And among the names of those who 
were not there were the names of Tristram, Palarnides, 
Gaheris, and seven others. Then said the king, ' Some of 
these, I dare to say, are against us here this day.' Then 
in the justing were great deeds done, and Sir Lancelot 
first smote Tristram ; but Tristram, recovering himself, 
hurled King Arthur from his horse. Then going away 
from the field, he came back presently in red armour, 
that none might know him, and he placed on their horses 
Sir Palarnides and some other knights who had been 
smitten down. But at this moment Palarnides looking 
up saw the fair Isolte smiling at Tristram, for she alone 
knew him in his red armour ; and Palarnides, thinking 



A rthur and his Knights. 1 6 1 

that lier smile was for him, felt himself filled with new 
strength, and from this time he fought like a lion, longing 
secretly in his heart that he might do battle to the death 
with Sir Tristram, his friend, because he had taken from 
him her love. And all men marvelled at the might of his 
arm, and the prize of this day was given to him. On the 
morrow, before the justing began again, King Arthur rode 
forth with Sir Lancelot to greet the fair Isolte ; but 
when she had welcomed the king, Palamides broke in 
with angry words, and when the king heeded not his 
wrath, Palamides took his spear and smote him down; 
and because Sir Tristram rebuked him for this deed, he 
determined to go over to the other side and fight with 
the man whom he called his friend. On this day Tristram 
put forth his strength, and Palamides wept that he might 
win no worship, for scarce any might hope to do so when 
Tristram used all his manhood. But when they had justed 
for some time, Tristram went from the field and came 
back clad in black armour with Sir Dinadan; and 
Palamides also had disguised himself with a shield and 
armour which he had borrowed from a knight who was 
resting himself by the water-side. But for all his 
scheming, and though he strove with all his power 
against Tristram, yet was Tristram adjudged to be the 
best knight that day. 

Full of wrath was Isolte against Palamides, for she had 
seen all his treachery, and how he had changed armour 
with the knight by the water-side. But Palamides feigned 
that he knew not Sir Tristram in his black armour, and 
Tristram forgave him for all that he had done. In the 
evening when the justing was ended, there came two 
knights armed into the tent where the fair Isolte sat at 
meat with Sir Tristram and Palamides ; but when Tristram 
rebuked them for coming armed, one of them said, ' We 
have come for no evil ; I am here to see you, and this 
knight seeks to greet the queen.' 4 Then doff your helms,' 

M 



1 62 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

said Tristram, c that I may see you ; ' and when they had 
done so, they knew that Arthur and Lancelot stood before 
them ; and great was the joy and gladness between them. 
Then said Arthur to Isolte, ' Many a day have I longed to 
see thee, so highly art thou praised : and indeed thou art 
fair as fair may be, and well are ye beset with the good and 
fair knight Sir Tristram ; ' and his words filled the heart 
of Palamides with bitter grief and rage, and all that night 
he wept sore for envy of his friend who had won the love 
of King Mark's wife. 

On the next day too were great things done, but be- 
cause Arthur's men were far fewer than they who were 
against them, Tristram said that he would go over to the 
king's side. 6 Then answered Palamides, ' Do as thou wilt. 
I change not.' ' Ah ! ' said Tristram, ' that is for my sake, 
I dare to say ; speed you well in your journey.' But be- 
cause Palamides could not bear down Tristram in the justs 
that day, his wrath grew more fierce, and in the evening 
when they came to the pavilions he called Tristram a 
traitor, and sware to slay him if ever he might.' ' Well,' 
said Tristram, ' I see not why thou wilt not have my friend- 
ship ; but since thou givest me so large warning, I shall be 
well ware of you.' And all these things were told to 
Queen Gruenevere, who lay sick in a castle by the sea-side. 
But more grievous still became the anguish of Sir Pala- 
mides, and he wandered about as one that is in a frenzy. 
' Alas ! ' he said, ' I have lost the fellowship of Sir Tristram 
for ever, and for ever have I lost the love of Isolte the 
Fair ; and now I am never like to see her more, and 
Tristram and I are mortal foes.' So, as he wandered along, 
he came to a castle where many were weeping, and when 
they saw Palamides they said, ' Here is the man who slew 
our lord at the tournament,' and for all he fought and 
struggled, they took him prisoner and adjudged him to 
death. And so it chanced that the tidings were brought 
to Sir Tristram, who said, ' Palamides has done me great 



Arthur and his Knights. 163 

wrong : yet must I rescue or avenge him, for he is too 
good a knight to be thus done to death.' On the mor- 
row then he set forth with this intent : but as Sir Pala- 
mides was led forth to die Sir Lancelot met them, and 
straightway did battle with them until those who had not 
been wounded or hurt fled away. Then at Tristram's 
prayer Lancelot and Palamides went to the castle where 
the fair Isolte abode; and glad was she to welcome Sir 
Lancelot ; but Palamides mourned more and more, until 
he faded away and all his strength departed from him. 
So wandering forth again, he came to a fountain, where 
he uttered all his complaint, and Tristram who chanced to 
be nigh heard it. So great was Tristram's wrath at the 
first that he thought to slay Palamides as he lay. But 
he remembered that Palamides was unarmed, and he 
checked himself, and going up to him he said, ' Thou art 
a traitor to me ; how wilt thou acquit thyself ? ' ' Thus,' 
said Sir Palamides ; ' from the hour when first I saw her 
Isolte has been my love, and well I know that it shall be- 
fall me as it befell Kehydius who died for her love. 
Through her only have I done all the deeds that I have 
done, and through all I have been her knight guerdon- 
less, for no reward or bounty have I ever had from her. 
Wherefore I had as soon die as live : and for treason, I 
have done none to thee, for love is free to all men, and 
Isolte is my lady as well as yours, only that thou hast her 
love, and this had I never, nor shall I ever have it.' c For 
all this,' said Tristram, 'I will fight with thee to the 
uttermost.' ' Be it so,' answered Palamides ; ' on the 
fifteenth day I will be ready for thee.' ' What, art thou 
turned coward, that thou needest fifteen days to make thee 
ready for battle ? Let us fight on the morrow ? ' 'It may 
not be,' said Palamides ; ' my strength is gone for very 
grief and sorrow : but on the fifteenth day I will not fail 
you.' But so it happened that when the fifteenth day was 
come, it was Tristram who could not keep the tryst, for 

M 2 



164 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

one day in a forest an archer shooting at a hart hit 
Tristram, and gave him a grievous wound. At the end of 
a month he was whole : and then he took horse and sought 
everywhere for his enemy : but Sir Palamides could no- 
where be found. 



CHAPTEE XL 

THE BIRTH OF THE GOOD KNIGHT GALAHAD. 

Now one day when King Arthur sat with his knights at 
the Pound Table, there came a hermit, who seeing the 
Siege Perilous empty asked wherefore it was void ; and 
the king said that one only might sit in it and live. 
6 Who then is that one ? ' asked the hermit : and when 
they could not tell him, he spake again, and said, ' The 
man that shall sit there is yet unborn : but he shall be 
born this year and shall achieve the Holy Grail;' and 
having so said, he departed. 

Soon after this, Lancelot also went his way until he 
came to the town of Corbin, where the folk welcomed 
him as their deliverer. ' What mean ye by your cries ? ' 
said the knight. Then they showed him a tower in which 
lay a maiden in great pain, for she boiled in scalding- 
water, and none had been able to rescue her. She was 
the fairest maiden in all the land, and therefore Morgan 
le Fay had shut her up in the dismal tower, until the best 
knight of the world should take her by the hand. But as 
Lancelot drew near, the doors opened to him of their own 
will, and on the couch he beheld the maiden, whose heart 
the fire had entered for many a long year. So was the 
damsel rescued from her inchantment, and the people said 
to Lancelot, ' Now must thou do yet another thing, thou 
must free us from a serpent that is here in a tomb.' Then 
as Lancelot came to the tomb, he saw written on it in 



A rth u r and his Knigh ts. 165 

golden letters, ' A leopard shall come of kingly blood, and 
shall slay this serpent, and from the leopard shall spring 
a lion which shall pass all other knights.' Even so it 
came to pass, for Lancelot slew the grisly snake, and the 
fair maiden Elaine became the mother of his child 
Gralahad. And in the house of her father King Pelles, 
the cousin of Joseph of Arimathie, as they sat at meat, 
there came in at a window A dove, in whose mouth there 
seemed to be a censer of gold. With it there came a 
savour as of all the spicery in the world ; and forthwith 
upon the table were seen all manner of meats and drinks. 
Presently there came a maiden bearing in her hands a 
vessel of pure gold, and before it the king and his knights 
kneeled and prayed devoutly. ' What may this mean ? ' 
said Lancelot : and the king answered, ' This is the 
richest thing that any child of man may have ; and when 
it goes about, the Bound Table shall be broken, for that 
which thou hast seen is the Holy Grail.' 

But when Sir Lancelot saw Elaine in her father's house, 
he weened it had been Queen Gruenevere, for he was 
brought under inchantment, and when he knew how he 
had been deceived, he would have slain the maiden, who 
with tears prayed him for her life, because she had given 
him her maiden love and faith. Then was Lancelot 
appeased, and the time went, and the child was born and 
named Galahad : and after this came another knight who 
had loved her long and sought to make her his wife. 
' Nay,' she said, c ask me never again. My love is set on 
the best knight in the world, and none other will I wed : ' 
and when that knight knew to whom her love was given, 
he sware with an oath that he would slay Sir Lancelot. 

But Lancelot was long since gone away, and Elaine 
asked Sir Bors who had come thither where the knight 
might be, and he told her how he was shut up in a prison 
by Morgan le Fay, King Arthur's sister. But even as he 
looked on the babe in Elaine's arms, he marvelled how 



1 66 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

like it seemed to Sir Lancelot, and she said, ' Truly it is 
his child ; ' and even as she spake, once more the white 
dove hovered in with the golden censer. Once more came 
the savour of all delightsome spicery. Once more the 
maiden bare in the Holy Grail, and said, ' Know that this 
child shall sit in the Perilous Seat, and shall win the 
Sangreal, and he shall be a better man far than the good 
knight Sir Lancelot his father.' Once more they kneeled 
and prayed before the golden vessel ; once more the dove 
floated away, and the maiden vanished as she came. 

On that day was Sir Eors clean shriven ; and as he lay 
down on his couch at night, with his armour on, a light 
flashed round him, and there came in end-long a spear, 
whose head burnt like a taper, and it gave him a grievous 
wound in the shoulder. Hard were now the toils of Sir 
Bors, for first he had to fight with a strong knight, and 
then with a huge lion ; but he beat off the one and smote 
the other. Then going forth into the court, he beheld 
a dragon with golden letters on his forehead which 
seemed to show the name of King Arthur, and there came 
an old leopard which struggled with the dragon, which 
spit an hundred dragons out of its mouth ; and the small 
dragons slew the great dragon and tare him in pieces. 
After this came an old man with two adders about his 
neck, and he sang on his harp an old song, how Joseph of 
Arimathie came into the land ; and when the song was 
ended, he bade Sir Bors depart, for nought there remained 
for him to do. Then came again the dove with the 
golden censer, and stayed the storm which had been 
raging ; and again the court was full of sweet odours, and 
four children were seen bearing fair tapers, and an old 
man in the midst held a censer in one hand and in the 
other a spear which was called the spear of vengeance. 

Then said the old man to Bors, ' Gro thou, and tell Sir 
Lancelot that because of his sins only is he hindered from 
seeing and doing the things which thou hast seen and 



Arthitr and his Knights. 167 

done, for though in strength of arm none may be his 
match, yet in spiritual things there are many who are his 
betters.' And as he spake, four ladies in poor array passed 
into a gleaming chamber, where a bishop kneeled before a 
silver altar ; and as he looked up, Sir Bors saw hanging 
over his head a silver sword whose brightness dazzled his 
eyes, and he heard a voice which said, ' Gro hence, for as 
yet thou art not worthy to be in this place.' 

On the morrow Sir Bors departed and went to Camelot, 
and told of the things which had happened to him in the 
house of King Pelles at Corbin, and it was noised abroad 
that Elaine was the mother of Sir Lancelot's child. 

At this time King Arthur made a great feast, and to it 
came Elaine the Fair, and there she saw Queen Gruenevere ; 
but, though in countenance they made good cheer, neither 
rejoiced to see the other. But yet more grievous was 
the sorrow of Gruenevere, when Sir Lancelot was once 
again taken from her by inchantment to the daughter of 
King Pelles ; and so wroth was she that when she next 
set eyes on Lancelot, she bade him depart for a false and 
traitorous knight and never to see her more. But even 
as he heard these words, the strong man fell as smitten by 
a sword : and when he woke from his swoon, he leaped 
out from the window and roamed as a madman in the woods, 
while twenty moons went round. 

Bitter was the anger and strife between Elaine and 
Gruenevere, when Sir Lancelot could nowhere be found. 
' On thee lies the blame,' said Elaine, ' for thou hast 
already a lord as noble as any that may be found in the 
earth ; and were it not for thee I should have the love of 
him who is the father of my child ; ' and having so said, 
she went her way, and King Arthur with a hundred 
knights brought her on her journey. But Gruenevere 
tarried behind mourning, and Sir Bors saw her as the 
tears streamed down her cheeks. ' Fie on your weeping,' 
he said ; * thou weepest only when thy tears will not undo 



1 68 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

thy sin. Alas ! that ever Sir Lancelot or his kin saw 
thee.' So said also Ector de Maris and Sir Lionel, and at 
their words Queen Gruenevere fell down in a swoon ; but 
presently waking up from it, she knelt before those knights 
and with clasped hands besought them to seek Lancelot 
through forest and brake, by mountain and river. But 
though twenty knights sought him in every quarter, yet 
they found him not ; and strange were the fortunes of 
many who went on the quest of Sir Lancelot. Many a day 
and month passed by, and still the search went on, and 
the bravest of them sware never to see Arthur's court again 
until they should have found him. And even so it came 
to pass that Sir Percivale, as he journeyed on, met with 
Sir Ector, and neither knowing the other, they fought 
until both were sorely wounded ; but when they knew 
each other they grieved, because they thought that they 
were smitten to the death and that they should not achieve 
the quest of Sir Lancelot. 

But even as they mourned and wept, the Holy Grail 
came by, bringing the savour of all spicery, and filling 
the chamber with dazzling light ; and the pure Sir Perci- 
vale had a glimmering of that golden vessel, and his eyes 
could see dimly the fair maiden who bare it. Forthwith 
both were made whole ; and they gave thanks to Grod, 
and went their way, marvelling at the strange things 
which had happened to them ; and Percivale learnt from 
his comrade that in the golden vessel was a part of the 
blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which none but a perfect 
man might ever see. 



Arthur and his Knights. 1 69 



CHAPTEE XII. 

THE FINDING OF LANCELOT. 

Meanwhile Sir Lancelot wandered through the forests 
in hunger and nakedness, doing strange deeds of wild 
strength, and seeking to harm those who would fain have 
been his friends. Thus he would have slain the kindly 
Sir Bliant, who brought him to the White Castle, and 
there tended him. But though his body gained back its 
health, his mind was as much astray as before. Still, 
though Lancelot knew not himself, he yet knew when two 
knights pressed hard upon Sir Bliant, and breaking his 
bonds, he rushed to his aid, and smote them down, so that 
they were glad to flee away. So he tarried still with 
Sir Bliant, and it came to pass, one day, that as he walked 
in the forest, he found a horse saddled, and tied to a tree, 
and against the tree a spear was leanirjg. Seizing the 
weapon in his hand, he leaped lightly on the saddle, and 
soon he saw before him a huge boar, which, as the knight 
rode up to him, tare the body of the horse with his tusks, 
and gashed the thigh of Sir Lancelot also. Then Lancelot 
put forth his strength and smote off the boar's head at a 
stroke ; but the blood ran from his thigh in streams, and 
he was well-nigh faint, when a hermit looked on him with 
pity and brought others to help, who placed him in the 
cart with the boar's carcase, and bare him to the hermitage, 
where the hermit healed him of his wound. But though 
he gained strength of body under the good hermit's care, 
yet was his mind still astray, and so it came about that 
one day he fled from the hermitage and ran to Corbin, the 
city of the fair Elaine ; and as he ran along the town to 
the castle, the people gibed and jeered at him ; but in the 
castle they gave him food and shelter, for they thought 



1 70 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

as they looked upon liim that they had never seen a man 
so goodly in form. 

Not long after this, a nephew of King Pelles, named 
Castor, was made knight, and gave away gowns to many ; 
and he sent a scarlet robe for Lancelot the Fool ; and when 
the mad knight was arrayed in it, he seemed the goodliest 
man in all the court. Wearing the robe, Lancelot strayed 
into the garden, and, lying down by a well-side he fell 
asleep : and there some maidens saw him and ran and told 
the fair Elaine. Then Elaine came hastily, and when she 
looked on him, she knew the man who was the father of 
her child ; and she took counsel with King Pelles, and by 
his good-will the knight was borne into the chamber of a 
tower in which lay the Sangreal, and by the virtue of 
that holy vessel he was healed of all his sickness. 

When Sir Lancelot awoke and saw King Pelles with 
his daughter standing near, he was sore ashamed, and 
besought them to tell him how he had come thither ; and 
Elaine told him all the story, how he had been kept as a 
fool and how he had been made sound again. ' Let no 
man know it,' said Sir Lancelot, 4 for I am banished from 
King Arthur's court for ever.' Then after a fortnight he 
said to Elaine, ' What travel, care, and anguish I have had 
for thee, thou knowest well. Wilt thou then now for thy 
love go to thy father, and get of him a place where I may 
dwell ? ' ' Yea,' answered Elaine, ' I will live and die with 
thee, and only for thy sake, and sure am I that there is 
nothing which my father will not give at my asking ; and 
wherever thou art, there, doubt not, I will be also.' So 
at her prayer King Pelles gave him as his abode the Castle 
of Bliant ; but before they departed thither, Sir Castor 
asked him his name, and Lancelot said, ' I am the knight 
Ill-doer.' ' Nay,' said Castor, ' thou seemest to me rather 
to be Sir Lancelot du Lake.' ' Sir,' answered Lancelot, 
' you are no gentle knight : for were I Lancelot, and it 
pleased me to withhold my name, why should it grieve 






Arthur and his Knights. 1 7 r 



<v 



you to keep my counsel, so you be not hurt thereby ? ' 
Then Castor kneeled down and craved his pardon : and 
Lancelot said, ' It is easily given ; ' and so they went their 
way to the Castle of Bliant, which stood on a fair island 
girt with iron, with fair waters all round it ; and Lancelot 
called it the Joyous Isle ; but for all its joy, Lancelot's 
heart well nigh burst with sorrow as each day he turned 
his eyes towards the land of Arthur and Gruenevere. Yet 
for all his grief he was conqueror over all the knights who 
came to just with him in the Joyous Isle ; and at last 
came Sir Percivale of Wales with his friend Sir Ector, 
and he called to a maiden who stood on the shore of the 
island with a sparrowhawk on her arm, and asked her who 
was in the castle. Then said the maiden, ' We have here 
the mightiest knight and the fairest maiden in all the 
world.' ' What is his name ? ' asked Sir Percivale. ' He 
calls himself the knight that hath trespassed.' c And 
how came he hither ? ' said Percivale. * Truly,' she said, 
6 he came as a madman into the city of Corbin, and there 
he was healed by the Holy GrraiL' Then went Percivale 
to the castle gate and bade the porter tell his lord that 
a knight had come who would just with him; and 
straightway Lancelot hastened into the lists. Fierce was 
the fight and long : and when their breath was well-nigh 
spent, Sir Percivale bade Lancelot tell him his name. ' I 
am the Ill-doing Knight,' he said ; ' and who art thou ? ' 
6 My name,' he answered, 6 is Percivale of Wales.' i Alas! ' 
said Lancelot, ' that I should have fought with one of my 
fellows ; ' and so saying, he flung away his shield and his 
sword ; and Percivale, marvelling much, charged him 
straitly to tell him his true name. Then he said, ' I am 
Lancelot du Lake, King Ban's son of Benwick.' e Ah me ! ' 
said Percivale, ' what have I done ? Thee was I sent to 
seek, and two years long have I sought thee wearily ; and 
on yonder bank stands thy brother Sir Ector.' And when 
Sir Lancelot had a sight of him, he ran to him and took 



1 72 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

him in his arms, and long time they wept over each other 
for joy ; and Elaine told all the story, how Lancelot had 
come to Corbin and to the Joyous Isle. 

So the days went on ; and after a while Sir Percivale 
asked Lancelot whether he would journey with them to 
Arthur's court. ' Nay,' he answered, ' it may not be.' 
Then his brother besought him, telling him of the grievous 
sorrow of the king and the queen, and how all longed to 
see again the knight who was more spoken of than any 
other knight then living, and that never any could be more 
welcome at the court than he. ' Well,' said Lancelot, ' I 
will go with you,' and they made ready for the journey; 
and with a sad heart the fair Elaine saw the man depart 
to whom she had given her love. 

Great was the joy at Camelot when Lancelot once more 
stood among his fellows of the Kound Table ; and as the 
queen listened to the tale of all that had befallen him, 
she wept as though she would have died. Then said the 
king , ' Truly, I marvel, Sir Lancelot, why ye went out of 
your mind. There be many who deem it was for the love 
of fair Elaine, King Pelles' daughter.' ' My lord,' 
answered Lancelot, ' if I have done any folly, I have had 
my reward : ' and the king said no more ; but all Sir 
Lancelot's kinsfolk knew for whom he went out of his 
mind. 

Then was it published abroad that on the feast of 
Pentecost next coming there should be a great tourney. 
To Camelot therefore Tristram took his journey at the 
prayer of the fair Isolte, but because she would not go 
with him to add to his labour, he went forth alone and 
unarmed. On the way he came upon two knights, of whom 
the one had smitten the other, and the knight who had 
done this was Palamides. Then as Tristram stood before 
him, Palamides said, ' The time is come for dressing our 
old sores. Thou art unarmed. Put thou on this knight's 
harness, for our quarrel shall be this day fought out.' 






Arthur and his Knights. 1 73 

And it was fought fiercely and long : but for all his 
striving Palamides could not master Tristram, and at the 
last he said, ' It may be that my offence against you is not 
so great but that we may be friends. Let us then bring 
the strife to an end : for all that I have offended is and 
was for the love of the fair Isolte ; and against her I have 
done no wrong.' 6 Yea,' said Tristram, ' (rod pardon thee 
as I forgive thee.' So they rode to Carlisle together, 
and when Sir Palamides the Saracen had been made a 
Christian by the bishop, they journeyed on thence to be 
at Arthur's court by Pentecost. 



CHAPTEK XIII. 

THE SHRIVING OF SIR LANCELOT. 

When the vigil of. the feast was come, there entered the 
great hall of Camelot a maiden who knelt before the king 
and prayed him to say where Sir Lancelot might be. 
' Yonder he is,' answered the king. Then said the maiden 
to Lancelot, ' I bring thee greetings from King Pelles, 
and I charge thee to come with me.' ' What would ye 
have with me ? ' asked Lancelot. ' That thou shalt know,' 
she said, ' when we have reached our journey's end.' Then 
came the queen and said, ' Wilt thou leave us now ? ' 
' Madam,' answered the damsel, ' he shall be with you 
again on the morrow.' 

Then riding with the maiden, Sir Lancelot came to an 
abbey of nuns, and being led into the abbess's chamber 
he saw there Sir Bors and Sir Lionel ; and presently 
twelve nuns brought in Gralahad and prayed Lancelot to 
make him a knight, for at no worthier hands might he 
receive the order. And when Lancelot knew that the 
desire came from the youth himself, he said, ' To-morrow 



1 74 Popular Romances of tJie Middle Ages, 

morn I will make thee a knight : ' and so on the morn at 
prime it was done ; and Lancelot said , ' Grod make thee 
a good man ; for one that is fairer in form no man may 
ever see. And now wilt thou come with me to King 
Arthur's court ? ' 6 Nay,' he said, 6 not now.' So Lancelot 
went on his way with Bors and Lionel to Camelot ; and 
there when all were gathered together, they saw in the 
Perilous Seat words newly written in letters of gold, which 
said, ' When four hundred winters and fifty-four have 
been accomplished since the Passion of Our Lord Jesus 
Christ this seat shall be filled.' ' Then,' said Lancelot, ' it 
should be filled this day, for this is the feast of Pentecost, 
and further four hundred years and fifty-four ; and if it 
please you, I would that none may see these letters until 
he be come for whom this seat has been made ready.' So 
over them they placed a cloth of silk : and presently a 
squire came in, who told them of a great stone floating 
down the river, and of a great sword which was stuck in 
the stone. ' I will see this marvel,' said the king : and 
when they came to the river, they beheld the red marble 
stone and the jewelled sword, round the pommel of which 
the words were written, ' Never shall man take me hence 
but he by whose side I ought to hang, and he shall be the 
best knight of the world.' Then said Arthur to Lancelot, 
' That art thou, and so the sword is thine.' 6 Nay,' 
answered Lancelot soberly, ' I ween not that I am the best 
knight ; and he who seeks to take that sword and fails 
shall receive from it a wound that he shall not long after 
remain whole.' 

Then the king turned to Sir Grawaine and said, 6 Make 
trial of the sword, I pray you, for my love : ' but Sir 
Gawaine would not until the king charged him on his 
obedience. Yet though he took up the sword by the 
handle, he could not stir it. Then the king thanked him, 
but Lancelot said, c So sorely shall this sword touch you 
that you shall wish you had never touched it for the best 



Arthur and his Knights. 175 

castle in the realm.' Turning then to Percivale, the king 
asked if he would try the sword, and Percivale said, ' Yes, 
gladly, to bear Gawaine fellowship,' but neither could he 
stir it. 

When after this they sat down to the feast, and all the 
seats were filled except the Perilous Siege, on a sudden all 
the doors and windows of the place were shut of them- 
selves, and into the darkened hall came, none knew whence, 
an old man clad all in white, leading a young knight who 
had neither sword nor shield, but only a scabbard hanging 
by his side. And the old man stood before the king and 
said, 'I bring you here one who is of kin to Joseph of 
Arimathie, and who shall achieve the marvels of this court 
and of strange realms.' Then said he to the youth, 
'Follow me,' and leading him to the Perilous Seat, he 
lifted up the silken cloth and found beneath it the words 
written, ' This is the seat of Galahad the High Prince.' 
Then the old man placed the youth in that seat, and 
departed. And all the knights of the Pound Table mar- 
velled that one who was a child durst sit in the Perilous 
Seat : and Sir Lancelot looking earnestly at the youth, 
saw that he was his own son, and his heart was filled with 
joy. Then were these tidings brought to Queen Guenevere, 
and she said, ' I may well suppose he is the son of Sir 
Lancelot and King Pelles' daughter.' And the king went 
to Galahad and bade him welcome, for he should move 
many good knights to the quest of the Sangreal, and 
should bring to an end things which none other knight 
had ever been able to achieve. So having said, the king 
led Galahad to the stone in the river, and the queen went 
with them. And Galahad said in few words, ' For the 
surety of this sword I brought none with me, and here by 
my side hangs the scabbard.' Then laying his hand on 
the sword, he drew it lightly from the stone, and as he 
put it in its sheath, he said, ' Now have I the sword which 
was sometime the sword of the good knight Balm, who 



iy6 Popular Romances of t lie Middle Ages. 

with it slew his brother Balan, because of the grievous 
stroke which Balan gave to my grandsire King Pelles, 
and which is not yet whole, nor shall be till I heal him.' 
And even as he spake, they saw a maiden riding toward 
them on a white palfrey, and when she came up to them, 
she called to Sir Lancelot and said that he had lost his 
ancient name. 'How so?' asked the knight. 'This 
morning,' she answered, ' thou wast the best man living : 
and now there is one better than thou.' e Nay,' said 
Lancelot, ' I know well I was never the best.' ' Yes,' 
answered the maiden, ' that were ye, and of all sinful 
men on the earth thou art so still.' 

That day said King Arthur to his knights of the Eound 
Table, ' Ye will all depart, I know, to this search for the 
Holy Grail, and never shall I see you all together again : 
therefore will I now see you all in the meadow of Camelot, 
that, when ye are dead, men may say the good knights 
were all together on such a day.' So were they gathered 
on the field of Camelot, and among all the knights the 
goodliest and the mightiest was Gralahad. After the just- 
ing the king made him unlace his helm that the queen 
might see his face : and Gruenevere said, ' Well may men 
say that he is Lancelot's son, for never were two men more 
like.' 

In the evening, when they had prayed in the great 
minster, and as the knights sat each in his own place, 
they heard cracking of thunder as though the hall would 
be riven through ; and in the midst of the crashing and 
darkness a light entered, clearer by seven times than ever 
they saw day, and all were alighted of the grace of the 
Holy Grhost : and as each knight looked on his fellows, 
behold all were fairer than any on whom their eyes 
had ever rested yet. But all sate dumb, and in the still 
silence came the Holy Grail, covered with white samite, 
but none might see it, or the hand which bare it ; and with 
it came all sweet odours, and each knight had such food 



Arthur and his Knights. 1 77 

and drink as lie loved best in the world ; and then the 
holy vessel was borne away, they knew not whither. 
Then were their tongues loosed, and the king gave thanks 
for that which they had seen. But Sir Grawaine said, ' We 
have had this day all that our hearts would wish, but we 
might not see the Holy Grail, so needfully was it covered : 
and therefore now I vow with the morrow's morn to depart 
hence in quest of the holy vessel and never to return 
until I have seen it more openly ; and if I may not achieve 
this, I shall come back as one that may not win against 
the will of Grod.' So vowed also the most part among 
the knights of the Eound Table. 

Then was the king stricken with sorrow. ' Thou hast 
well nigh slain me,' he said, 'with thy vow; for thou 
hast reft me of the fairest fellowship and the truest knight- 
hood that ever were seen together in any realm of the 
world. I have loved them as well as my life : and well I 
know that, when we are sundered, we shall nevermore meet 
all together on this earth again.' ' Comfort yourself,' said 
Lancelot. ' It shall be to us a greater honour than if we 
died in any other place : and die we must.' 4 Ah, Lancelot,' 
said Arthur, i it is my love for you all which makes me 
speak thus ; for never had Christian king so many worthy 
knights around him.' But greater still was the grief of 
Queen Gruenevere ; and many of the ladies would have gone 
with the knights whom they loved : but an old knight 
came among them saying, that the knights must go forth 
alone, or else they would never achieve the task. 

On the morrow, when the service was done in the great 
mirjster,the king took account of the number of the knights 
who had vowed to search for the Holy Grail ; and they 
were one hundred and fifty, all knights of the Eound 
Table. But Gruenevere was in her chamber : and thither 
went Lancelot to take his leave, and then they rode all 
through the streets of Camelot, rich and poor weeping as 
they went. 

N 



i yS Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Thus far Sir Galahad was without a shield ; but on the 
fourth day he came to a white abbey, where, in a chamber, he 
found two knights of the Eound Table, King Bagdemagus 
and Sir Uwaine ; and when he asked them why they were 
there, they told him how they had heard that in that place 
was a shield which no man might wear except to his 
grievous hurt ; but Bagdemagus said that nevertheless he 
would seek to bear it away. On the morrow a monk 
warned him not to touch it unless he were the best man 
in the world ; ' That I ween I am not,' said Bagdemagus, 
' yet will I make trial.' So he bore it away, and a knight 
met him and smote him and took away the shield, and 
bade the squire of King Bagdemagus carry it to Sir 
Galahad, to whom only the shield belonged. So Gralahad 
won his shield, and Bagdemagus escaped hard with his life. 
Now Sir Uwaine would fain have gone with Gralahad, but 
Galahad would take only the squire who brought him 
the shield that had been made long ago for good King 
Evelake, and which had won him the victory against the 
paynim Tolleme and his people. And the squire's name was 
Melias, the son of the King of Denmark ; and Gralahad 
made him a knight. 

Many days they rode together, until at length they came 
to a place where the roads forked, and on the cross which was 
there set up they saw letters written which said, ' He who 
goes to the right hand shall not go out of that way again, if 
he be a good man and a worthy knight : and he who goes on 
the left, shall have his strength soon tried.' Then Melias 
besought Sir Galahad to let him take the left path, and 
after a while Galahad suffered him to go. So on rode 
Melias, and passing through a forest, came to a fair meadow, 
in which was a lodge of boughs, and in that lodge a chair, 
and on the chair a golden crown, while on the earth were 
spread rich cloths and on these were rich and rare dainties. 
For these Melias cared not ; but taking up the crown he 
rode onwards. Full soon, however, he heard a voice behind 



Arthur and his Knights. 1 79 

him, which bade him set down the crown which was not his, 
and defend himself. Short was the battle, for the knight 
who had overtaken Melias smote him with his spear, and 
taking away the crown left him well nigh dead. In this 
plight Sir Galahad found him, and when he had smitten 
the knight who had wounded him, and yet another knight 
who came forth against him, he took up Melias and bare 
him to an abbey, where an old monk said that within the 
term of seven weeks he would heal him. Then Galahad 
told the monk how they two were in quest of the Holy 
Grail ; and the old man said, ' For this has he been thus 
wounded ; and strange is it that any durst take on him- 
self the order of knighthood without clean confession. 
For the right-hand way was the way of the good man, the 
other the way of sinners. Pride it was which took this 
knight away from Galahad, and the taking of the crown 
was a sin of covetousness and theft ; and the two knights 
whom Galahad smote were the two deadly sins which had 
conquered the knight Sir Melias.' Then said Galahad, 
* Now I go my way, and God keep you all ; * and Melias 
answered, 6 As soon as I can ride again, I will seek you.' 
So Galahad went on his journey, and came to a castle 
which was called the Castle of the Maidens, because seven 
knights had seized it, and sworn that never lady nor knight 
should pass there, but they should be shut up within it, 
and many maidens had they thus devoured. These Galahad 
rescued, and the seven knights were slain by Sir Gawaine 
and Gareth and Uwaine, who were riding together in 
search of Galahad. 

But again the pure knight had gone on his way from 
the Maidens' Castle, and Lancelot and Percivale met him. 
But they knew him not, for he was in new disguise, and 
they ran on him with their lances. With two stout blows 
Galahad smote them down and passed on, while a recluse, 
who dwelt hard by, cried aloud, ' God be with thee, thou 
best knight of the world.' Then knew Lancelot and Per- 

n2 



180 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages: 

civale that it was Gralahad : but though they hastened after 
him, yet they could not find him ; and Lancelot, riding on, 
came to an old chapel, within which he found an altar ar- 
rayed in silken cloths, and a silver candlestick which bare six 
great candles. But there was no place by which he could 
enter ; and unlacing his helm, he ungirded his sword and 
lay down upon his shield to sleep before the stony cross 
which stood hard by. Presently, half-asleep and half- 
awake, he saw two white palfreys bearing a sick knight 
on a litter, and as they stood before the cross, the knight 
prayed to Grod that his sorrow might leave him, since he 
had endured long for little trespass. Then the candle- 
stick with the six tapers came before the cross, but Lan- 
celot saw not the hand that bare it, and with it came the 
silver table, and the vessel of the Sangreal which he had 
seen in the house of King Pescheur. Straightway then 
the knight went on hands and knees until he touched the 
holy vessel and kissed it, and was healed of his sickness, 
and the vessel and the silver table vanished away. Then 
the sick knight's squire asked him how he did, and he 
said, ' Eight well, I thank God ; through the holy vessel I 
am healed ; but strange it seems to me that this knight 
had no power to awake when the holy vessel was brought 
hither.' 'Doubtless,' said the squire, 'he is in some 
deadly sin : but here I have brought all your arms save 
helm and sword, and by my counsel thou wilt take the 
sword and helm of this knight.' And even so that knight 
did, and he took Lancelot's horse also. 

When Lancelot waked, he doubted whether that which 
he had seen were dreams or not, and he heard a voice 
which said, 'Harder than the stone, more bitter than 
wood, barer than the fig-tree's leaf, go thou from this holy 
place.' So heavy and grievous was Sir Lancelot when 
these words fell on his ears, that he wept sore and cursed 
the day on which he was born. ' My sin has brought me 
into great dishonour,' he said. 'So long as I sought 



A rthur and his Knights. 1 8 1 

earthly fame, all things went well with me, and never 
was I discomfited in my quarrel ; but now, when I am in 
quest of holy things, my old sin so shames me that no 
power to stir remained within me when the Sangreal 
appeared before me.' So he mourned till the day broke, 
and he heard the birds sing, and their song brought him 
some comfort. But missing his horse and harness, he 
went sorrowing to a high hill where was a hermitage, and 
then he made confession to the hermit, how for many a 
long year he had loved a queen beyond measure, and how 
all his great and good deeds had been done for her sake, 
or to win himself worship to cause him to be the better 
beloved, and not for the sake of Grod only. Then said the 
hermit, £ I will counsel you if you will promise to me not 
to come in that queen's fellowship, as much as you may 
forbear ; ' and Lancelot made the promise. ' See that 
your heart and your mouth accord,' said the hermit, ' and 
you shall have more worship than ever before.' Then 
Lancelot told him of the strange words which he had 
heard ; and the hermit said, c Marvel not, for Grod loves 
you well. The voice called thee harder than stone, for 
thou wouldest not leave thy sin for any goodness that 
Grod sent to thee, and wouldest not be softened neither by 
water nor by fire. But take good heed. In all the world, 
no knight hath received the grace that thou hast. Grod 
hath given thee fairness and wit, prowess and hardiness, 
and now, whether thou wilt or wilt not, He will suffer 
thee to go no longer alone, but He will have thee know 
Him. More bitter wast thou called than wood, because 
thou hast in thee the bitterness of sin ; and barer art 
thou of fruit in good thought and good will than the fig- 
tree which was cursed because leaves only were found 
thereon.' 

So, when Lancelot had confessed his sin and sought 
for mercy, the hermit' as soiled him and prayed him to 
tarry with him that day. ' That will I gladly,' said the 



182 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

knight, ' for I have neither helm, horse, nor sword.' ' On 
the morn,' said the hermit, ' I will bring to you all that 
belongs to you.' 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE TEMPTATION OF SIR PERCIVALE. 

And now the faith of the good Sir Percivale was to be 
tried. For a little while he tarried with the recluse who 
greeted Sir Gralahad as the best knight of the world, and 
when Percivale told her his name she rejoiced greatly, 
for she was his mother's sister ; and they talked together 
of many things, and she told him how Merlin had made 
the Round Table in token of the roundness of the world, 
and how they who are made its fellows forsake all other 
for the sake of that fellowship. 'So,' she said, 'has it 
been with thee, for since thou wast admitted to that 
company, thou hast not seen thy mother, and now her 
days are ended on earth. But go thy way to the Castle 
of Carbonek, and there shalt thou get tidings of the good 
knight Gralahad whom thou seekest.' 

So Percivale departed and came to a monastery where 
on the morn he heard mass, and nigh the altar, on a bed 
covered with cloth of silk and gold, he saw one lie with a 
crown of gold on his head. But when it came to the 
sacring, the man rose up and uncovered his head, and 
Percivale saw that his body was full of great wounds on 
the shoulders, arms, and face, and when he asked who he 
might be, one of the monks said, ' This is King Evelake 
whom Joseph of Arimathie made a Christian, and there- 
after he sought to be with the Sangreal, which he followed 
till he was struck almost blind, and Evelake prayed that he 
might not die till he should have seen the good knight 
of his blood, of the ninth degree, who should win that 



A rthur and his Knights. 183 

holy vessel ; and when he had thus prayed, a voice was 
heard saying, 'Thou shalt not die till he have kissed 
thee ; and when he shall come, thine eyes shall be clear 
again, and thy wounds shall be healed.' 

As Percivale journeyed on from the abbey, he met 
twenty men of arms bearing a dead knight ; and when they 
learnt that he was come from Arthur's court, they cried, 
' Slay him ;' and though Sir Percivale fought stoutly, slain 
he would have been, had not Sir Gralahad appeared on a 
sudden and smitten down a man at every blow, until those 
fled who remained alive, and Gralahad departed after them. 
But Percivale could not keep him in sight for he had no 
horse; and at last being wearied, he fell asleep, and 
waking saw a woman standing by, who said that if he 
would promise to do her will she would bring him a 
horse. This he promised, and straightway she brought 
him a coal-black steed ; and on its back he rode four days 
till he came to a great water into which the steed would 
have plunged : but Percivale feared whether he could over- 
pass it, and he made the sign of the cross on his fore- 
head. Then with a mighty leap the horse went into the 
water, which seemed to be set on fire, and Percivale knew 
that he had been set free from a demon, and he spent the 
night praying and thanking Grod. Then going on into a 
valley, he saw a serpent bearing a lion's cub by the neck, 
and a great lion went behind it roaring. Presently there 
was a battle between the lion and the serpent, and 
Percivale took part with the kindlier beast and smote the 
serpent with a deadly wound, and the lion in great joy 
fawned on the knight, who stroked him on the neck and 
shoulders. All that night the lion slept by the side of Sir 
Percivale who dreamed that two ladies came by, the 
younger on a lion, the elder on a serpent ; and the 
younger, bidding him be ready on the morrow at her lord's 
command to fight with the strongest champion in the 
world, vanished away, and then the other complained that 



184 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

he had done her wrong by slaying her serpent when it 
fought with the lion. ' Why didst thou wound it ? ' she 
asked, and Percivale said, ' Because I fought for the 
kindlier beast.' Then she said that he must make amends 
for his murder by becoming her man. ' That will I not,' 
he said. ' Be it so,' she answered, ' then will I seize thee 
if I can find thee at any time unguarded : ' and she too 
vanished away, and Percivale's dream was ended. On the 
morn he rose up weak and feeble, and going to the sea- 
shore he saw coming towards him a ship, at whose head 
stood an old man in priestly garb, and when Percivale 
asked him who he was, he said, 6 1 am of a strange country, 
and hither I come to comfort you.' Then Percivale told 
him of his dream and prayed him to expound it ; and the 
priest said, ' She who rode on the lion is the new law of 
the holy Church, and she came to warn thee of the great 
battle that shall befall thee : and she on the serpent is the 
old law, and the serpent is the fiend, — and when she asked 
thee to become her man, it was that she might tempt thee 
to renounce thy baptism.' 

There Percivale abode till midday with the lion ; and at 
noon a ship came toward him, bearing a beautiful maiden 
clad as a queen, and she besought the knight to help her 
to win back her inheritance, ' For,' she said, 4 1 dwelt with 
the greatest man of the world, and I had more pride of 
my beauty than I ought, and I said some words that 
pleased him not ; so he drave me away from my heritage 
without pity for me or for my court. If then thou art of 
the Pound Table, it is thy part to help those who are in 
trouble.' So Percivale promised, and she thanked him : 
but the sun was hot, and she bade one of the women set 
up a pavilion under which the knight might sleep, and 
before him she placed costly food and wine, and with the 
wine Sir Percivale deemed he was somewhat more heated 
than he ought to be. As he gazed on the lady, she 
seemed now to grow fairer and fairer, until he proffered 



A rthur and his Knights. 1 8 5 

her his love ; but she said him nay, unless he would swear 
never to do henceforth anything but that which she 
might command him. So Percivale sware the oath, but as 
he drew near to her, he spied his sword which lay on the 
ground, with the red cross in its pommel, and remem- 
bering his knighthood and the words of the good priest, he 
made the sign of the cross on his forehead, and straight- 
way the pavilion changed into smoke and a black cloud, 
and on the sea he saw the vessel bearing away the lady 
who wept and wailed, and it seemed that all the water 
burnt after her. 

And Sir Percivale too wept and mourned for his 
wickedness ; but presently came again the ship which he 
had seen the day before, and in it came again the good 
priest, who asked him how he had fared, and Percivale told 
him all. ' Did'st thou not know the maiden ? ' the old 
man asked him ; and he said, ' Nay, but I know now that 
the fiend sent her to shame me.' ' good knight, 
answered the priest, ' thou art a fool, for that maiden was 
the master fiend himself who was beaten out of heaven 
for his sin, and who would have conquered thee but for 
the grace of Grod. Wherefore take good heed.' So 
saying, the old man vanished away, and Percivale went 
into the ship, which bare him thence. 



CHAPTEE XV. 

THE VISION OF SIR LANCELOT. 



After three days the hermit with whom Sir Lancelot 
tarried gave him a horse, a helm, and a sword ; and depart- 
ing at noontide the knight journeyed on, until he came to 
a chapel where was an old man to whom he told his quest 
of the Holy Grail. ' Seek it ye may,' said the man, 6 but 
there is sin on thee, and while it be there, thou shalt 



1 86 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

never see it.' Then Lancelot asked what he should do ; 
and the old man charged him to eat no flesh and to drink 
no wine and to hear mass daily so long as he might search 
for the holy vessel. Then riding onward, he came to an 
old cross, as the darkness was closing in ; and putting his 
horse to feed, he kneeled down and prayed, and then lay 
down to sleep. Presently in a dream he saw a man 
compassed with stars and with a golden crown on his head, 
and behind him came seven kings and two knights, and all 
these worshipped at the cross, holding up their hands 
towards heaven. Then the clouds opened and an old man 
came down with a company of angels, and gave unto each 
his blessing and called them true knights and good 
servants ; but to one of the two knights he said, 4 1 have 
lost all that I have set in thee ; for thou hast fought and 
warred for the pleasure of the world more than to please 
me ; and therefore thou shalt be brought to nought, if 
thou yield me not my treasure.' 

On the morrow Sir Lancelot rode on, pondering much 
the vision which he had seen. Soon he met the knight 
who had taken away from him his horse, his helm, and his 
sword ; and doing battle with him, he got them back 
again, and left him the horse on which he rode. Going 
on till nightfall, he came to the abode of a hermit to whom 
he told his dream and asked its meaning ; and the hermit 
said, ' The seven kings are thy forefathers, of whom the 
seventh is thy father King Ban : the two knights are 
thyself and thy son Galahad, and of thee it was said that 
God will not love thee if thou yield Him not up His 
treasure, for little thank hast thou given to God for all 
the virtues God hath lent thee.' Then said Lancelot, s The 
good knight whom thou callest my son should pray for me 
that I fall not into sin again.' ' Be sure,' said the her- 
mit, ' that thou dost fare the better for his prayers ; but 
the son shall not bear the iniquity of the father nor the 
father bear the iniquity of his son.' 



A rthur and his Knights. 187 

The next day Lancelot riding onwards came to a castle 
where knights clad in black armour and on black horses 
were being worsted by knights clad in white armour and 
on white horses; and Lancelot thought to increase his 
worship by striking in with the weaker party. Doughty 
as ever were his blows : but mortal man must tire at last, 
and Sir Lancelot at length was borne down, faint with loss 
of blood. * Ah me,' he said, ' when I fought to win 
prowess for myself, never man had the better of me ; now 
when I strive to aid others, I am myself overcome.' 

So being left all alone he fell asleep ; and there came 
before him in a vision an old man who said, ' Lancelot, 
Lancelot, why is thy mind turned lightly towards its 
deadly sin ? ' and then he vanished away. Much musing 
on these words, Lancelot when he woke rode on until he 
came to the dwelling of a recluse to whom he told all that 
he had seen and what had befallen him, and she said, ' The 
black and the white knights were the earthly knights and 
the spiritual knights ; and thou, seeing the sinners over- 
come thoughtest to win glory for thyself by hastening to 
their aid ; but the white knights saw the Sangreal which 
thine eyes may not see, and so gained strength for their 
arms, greater than the strength even of thy arm, though 
thou hast not thy peer among earthly sinful men.' 

Then the recluse commended Lancelot to Grod, and he 
rode on till he came to a gloomy river, over which his 
horse bore him safely ; but when he was on the other side, 
there came a black knight, who slew Lancelot's horse and 
vanished away. And Lancelot took his helm and shield, 
and went on his way humbly. 



1 88 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 



CHAPTEK XVI. 

THE TRIAL OF SIR BORS. 

There was aching of heart not for Lancelot only. For 
to many a knight of the Eound Table the months rolled 
wearily on while they sought in vain for the Sangreal. 
So was it with Sir Grawaine and Sir Ector de Maris, and 
much they complained each to the other of the weariness 
of their quest. At length, as they rode one day together 
they came to an old chapel, into which they went to pray, 
and after they had prayed, they fell asleep : and in his 
dream Grawaine saw a hundred and fifty bulls, all black 
save three, which were white, but of these three one had 
a black spot ; and these three were tied with strong cords ; 
and the other bulls went off to seek better pasture, and some 
came back again so lean and weak that scarcely might 
they stand. But to Ector, as he slept, it seemed that he 
was riding with Lancelot his brother in quest of that 
which they should not find ; and another came who took 
Lancelot off his horse and placed him on an ass, upon 
which he rode till he came to a fair well, but when 
Lancelot stooped down to drink of it, the water sank from 
him, and when he saw this he rose up and departed by the 
way by which he had come. 

When they awoke they told each his dream ; and even 
as they spake, a hand bare to the elbow, covered with red 
samite, and holding a clear burning candle, came into the 
chapel and again vanished away, and they heard a voice 
which said, ' Knights of evil faith and poor belief 
may not come to the adventures of the Holy Grrail.' 

Then departing from the chapel, the two knights went 
on ; and upon the road they met with a knight who would 
just with Sir Grawaine. And when they had fought awhile, 



Arthtt7 / ' and his Knights. 1 89 

Grawaine smote him harder than he had weened, and the 
knight prayed (xawaine to take him to some abbey that 
he might make confession before he died. ' What is thy 
name ? ' said Grawaine. ' I am Uwaine les Avoutres,' he 
answered, ' the son of King Uriens.' ' Alas ! ' said (xawaine, 
' that I should slay one of my fellows of the Bound Table.' 
Yet so must it be, for when the spear-head was drawn from 
the wound, Uwaine died. 

In sadness and sorrow Ector and (xawaine rode on to 
the abode of the hermit ISTacien, to whom they told their 
dreams and all that had befallen them ; and the hermit 
told them the meaning of their visions. To Grawaine he 
said, ' The fair meadow is humility and patience — things 
ever fresh and green. The black bulls are the company 
of the Eound Table — knights black with sins, save three 
who are Sir Gralahad, Sir Percivale, and Sir Bors ; but the 
spot of one sin mars the pure whiteness in Sir Bors. The 
going away of the black bulls was the departure of the 
knights on the "quest of the Sangreal without confession, 
and so they came back into waste countries, where many 
of them shall die.' And to Ector he said, 'The thing 
which ye shall not find is the Sangreal : but the placing 
of Lancelot on the ass is the humbling of the knight, and 
the water which sank away from him is the grace of Grod, 
in desire of which he went back by the way by which he 
had come.' 

Great also were the griefs and sufferings of Sir Bors, 
when he had departed from Camelot in search of the holy 
vessel. As in one place he looked up to the branches of 
the trees over his head, he saw a great bird on an old and 
dry stem smiting itself that its blood might feed its 
young birds which were dead of hunger ; and the great 
bird died, but the young birds lived again and were strong. 
Then going on, he came to a castle where the lady lodged 
him richly ; but while he was there, there came a messen- 
ger from another woman her enemy who said to the lady 



190 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

of the castle, that if she found not a knight to fight in 
her behalf she should be driven forth and despoiled of all 
her goods and lands. So Bors fought and conquered in her 
quarrel, but he refused all recompense which the lady 
would have bestowed on him. 

As he journeyed thence, he met first two knights who 
were leading his brother Lionel bound and stripped, and 
scourging him with thorns : but before he could rush to 
rescue him, there came another knight who was striving 
to force a maiden into the lonely parts of the forest, and 
the maiden besought him to deliver her out of his hand ; 
and for a moment Bors knew not what to do : but the cries 
of the maiden pierced his heart, and he fought with and 
smote the man who was doing her wrong. But when he 
had placed her in safety, he went onwards to seek his 
brother Lionel ; and there met him a man clad in dark 
raiment and riding on a black horse who asked him what 
he sought ; and he said, ' I seek my brother whom two 
knights were beating as they drove him on the road.' ' It 
boots not to seek him,' said the man, ' for he is dead, and 
here is his body : ' and it seemed to Bors that the body 
which he showed him was the body of Lionel. So he took 
it up, and placing it on his saddle bow, he brought it to 
an old chapel, where they placed it in a tomb of marble. 
c Now leave him here,' said the other to Bors, 6 and 
to-morrow we will come back to do him service.' ' Art 
thou a priest ? ' asked Bors : and when he said ' Yea,' Bors 
told him of a dream which he had, and which showed him 
two birds, one white as a swan, and the other swart as a 
raven, and each bird in its turn promised him riches and 
wealth if he would tend and serve it ; and how again he 
had dreamed and had seen, as he thought, two flowers, like 
lilies, and the one would have taken the other's whiteness 
but one came and parted them that they might not touch 
each other, and then out of every flower came forth many 
flowers and fruit in plenty. Then the priest told Bors that 






A rlhur and his Knights. 191 

the white bird was a lady that loved him truly, and would 
die if he refused her his love ; he said too that, if Bors 
said nay to her, Sir Lancelot also should die, and so he 
should be the slayer of his brother Lionel and of Lancelot 
du Lake, whereas he had gone about to rescue a maiden 
who pertained not at all to him. Then he led Bors to a 
high tower, where knights and ladies welcomed and 
unarmed him, and made him such cheer that he forgot all 
his sorrow and anguish and took no more thought for his 
brother or for Lancelot ; and as he thus lay feasting, there 
came a lady fairer than all who were around him, and more 
richly arrayed than even Queen Gruenevere : then said they, 
' This is the lady whom we serve, and she it is who loves 
you and will have no other knight but you.' Then, as 
they talked together, the lady straitly asked him for his 
love, until Bors was sore vexed and said, ' There is none in 
the world to whom I may grant it, for my brother is 
lying dead whom evil men have slain.' And when she 
saw that she asked in vain, she said that she would die, 
and her maidens followed her to the battlements. Still 
he heard their cry, and moved with pity he made the sign 
of the cross ; and there was a great crash as if an army of 
fiends were about, and tower and chapel, priest and 
maidens, all vanished away. 

Thankful and glad was Sir Bors for his rescuing, as he 
rode on to an abbey, where he told the abbot of his vision 
of the great bird feeding her young. Then said the abbot, 
that the love of the great bird was the love of Jesus Christ, 
for the blood that the great fowl bled brought back the 
young from death to life, and the bad tree was the world 
which of itself can have no fruit. 'But all that came 
after,' said the abbot, ' was to lead thee into error, and the 
fiend who spake with thee in guise of a priest lied to thee 
about thy brother Lionel, for he is still alive ; and here is 
the dream of the dry tree and the white lilies. The dry 
tree is thy brother, who is without virtue and a murderer ; 



192 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

and the flowers are the knight and the maiden whom he 
sought to injure, and hadst thou left these first to help 
thy brother, thou wouldst have gone to the succour of a 
rotten tree.' 

Then, parting from the abbot, Sir Bors went his way 
and came to a castle where they told him of a great tour- 
nament presently to be held there, and he thought to be 
there himself if he might have the fellowship of his 
brother or of some other knights of the Bound Table. So 
thinking, he wandered to a hermitage in the forest, and 
there at the chapel door he found Sir Lionel all armed, 
and Bors went up to embrace him for joy and gladness. 
But his brother cried out as he drew near, ' Nay, come 
not nigh me, you left me to be scourged and slain, and 
for that misdeed thou shalt die.' In vain Sir Bors sought 
to soften him and win forgiveness. ' Forgive thee will I 
never ; and if I get the upper hand, thou diest.' So madly 
raged Lionel that Bors wist not what to do, for it seemed 
shame to him and grief to fight with his brother: and when 
Lionel saw that Bors would not fight, he rode upon him, 
and then lighting off his horse took him by the helmet and 
would have smitten off his head, when the hermit came and 
strove to stay him for very shame. But Sir Lionel turned 
savagely and slew the good old man, and again was about 
to smite Sir Bors, when a knight of the Eound Table 
rode up hastily, and seizing Lionel by the shoulders said, 
' Wilt thou slay thy brother, the worthiest knight in the 
world ? ' ' Nay, if thou seek to hinder me,' said Lionel, ' I 
will slay thee first and him afterwards.' At these words 
the knight, whose name was Colgrevance, made ready for 
the fight ; and as they strove together, the heart of Sir 
Bors well nigh burst with grief and shame. But at the 
last the good Sir Colgrevance was slain, and Lionel rushed 
once more to kill his brother. The meekness of Bors 
and his patience were sorely tried, and he was just lifting 
up his hand to defend his life, when he heard a voice 



Arthur and his Knights. 193 

which said, 'Flee, and touch him not;' and there came 
between them a naming cloud, so that both their shields 
were kindled by it. And again the voice said, ' Bear thy 
brother fellowship no more, but go thou to the sea where 
Sir Percivale awaits thee.' So, going to the shore, he 
found a vessel into which he stepped, and the boat 
straightway shot through the waters, so that it seemed to 
him to be flying. Onwards it sped, until the darkness 
closed around it, and Sir Bors sank to sleep. But when 
he awoke in the morning, he saw a knight lying in the 
midst of the vessel, whom he knew to be Percivale. But 
Percivale was abashed until Sir Bors unlaced his helm 
and showed his face. Then great was the joy between 
them, and Percivale said, ' We lack nothing but Gralahad 
the good knight.' 



CHAPTER XVII. 

THE ACHIEVING OP THE SANGREAL. 

While these things were happening, Sir Gralahad was 
doing great deeds elsewhere. First, after he had rescued 
Percivale from the twenty knights, he came to a castle where 
a tournament was going on, and where Grawaine and Ector 
were fighting with the men without and bearing down the 
men within ; and Sir Gralahad, striking in with the weaker, 
dealt a blow on Grawaine which smote him to the ground. 
Then, having beaten back all the knights without, Galahad 
stole away unseen ; and Grawaine said, ' Now are Lancelot's 
words proved true, that the sword which was stuck in the 
stone should give me a buffet such as I would not have 
for the best castle in the world, for never before had I 
such a stroke from any man's hand.' 6 Your quest is done, it 
seems,' said Ector. ' Yea,' he said, ' I shall seek no more,' 
But Gralahad rode on towards the Castle of Carbonek, and 



1 94 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

he was benighted at a hermitage. As he rested with the 
hermit there came a maiden who bade him follow her, and 
she led him to a great castle where the lady suffered him 
to rest but for a little while, and then, leading him by torch- 
light to the sea, brought him to the ship in which were 
Bors and Percivale ; and right glad were they to greet Sir 
Gralahad. Then, as the good knight stepped into the 
boat, the winds bore it away swiftly over the sea, till it 
brought them to a narrow way betwixt high rocks where 
they might not land ; but they saw another ship and upon 
it they might go without danger ; and to it they went by 
the maiden's bidding, and they found the vessel richly 
dight, but there was neither man nor woman therein. 
But in the end of the ship these words were written, 
6 Beware, thou who enterest this ship, that thou be sted- 
fast in trust, for I am Faith, and if thou failest I shall 
not help thee.' Then said the maiden to Percivale, 
6 Knowest thou who I am ? ' and he answered, ' Nay.' 
6 Know then,' she said, ' that I am thy sister, the daughter 
of King Pellinore ; and now I pray thee enter not into 
this ship if thou be not firm of faith, for it will suffer no 
sin.' Then answered Percivale, ' I shall adventure it, and 
if I be an untrue knight I shall perish.' 

Then the maiden showed them all the treasures of the 
ship, the sword which King Pelles drew to his grievous 
hurt (for never since that day had the wound been healed 
with which he then was smitten), and the rich bed which 
Solomon's wife had caused to be made, and the three 
spindles made from the tree which Eve planted. Then 
taking the sword, she said to Gralahad, ' Gird thou on this 
sword which hath been so long desired of all good knights;' 
and when she had fastened it round him with girdle made 
in most part of her own hair which she had loved well in 
her youth, she said, ' Now I reck not though I die, for I 
am one of the most blessed of maidens, since I have made 
the worthiest knight in all the world.' 



A rthur and his Knights. 195 

Then again the wind drove them on to the Castle of 
Carteloise, which was held by evil knights who had 
wronged their sister and put their father in prison and 
done great harm through all the land. These knights 
Sir Galahad slew and rescued the old man from his 
dungeon ; but there was little life now left in him, and he 
departed thanking God who suffered him to die in the 
arms of the good Sir Galahad. 

And again they went on to another castle, from which 
came a band of knights who told them of the custom of 
the place, that every maiden who passed by must yield a 
dish full of her blood. 6 That shall she not do,' said 
Galahad, 6 while I live ;' and fierce was the struggle that 
followed, and the sword of Galahad, which was the sword 
of King David, smote them down on every side, until 
those who remained alive craved peace, and bade Galahad 
and his fellows come into the castle for the night ; ' and 
on the morn,' they said, ; we dare say ye will be of one 
accord with us when ye know the reason for our custom.' 
So awhile they rested, and the knights told them that in 
the castle lay a lady sick to death, who might never gain 
back her life until she should be anointed with the blood 
of a pure maiden who was a king's daughter. Then said 
Percivale's sister, 6 1 will yield it, and so shall I get health 
to my soul, and there shall be no battle on the morn.' 
And even so was it done .; but the blood which she gave 
was so much that she might not live, and as her strength 
passed away, she said to Percivale, ' I die, brother, for the 
healing of this lady. And I pray you now, bury me not 
in this land, but place me in a boat at the next haven, 
and when ye be come to the city of Sarras, there to win 
the Holy Grail, ye shall find me under a tower, and there 
shall ye bury me in the Spiritual Place, and there shall 
Galahad be buried and ye also.' Then, as they wept, a 
voice was heard which said, ' To-morrow at the hour of 
prime, ye three shall part each to a several way, until ye 

o2 



196 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

shall be brought together at the house of the maimed 
king.' Thus was the lady of the castle healed, and the 
gentle maiden, King Pelles' daughter, died ; and Percivale 
placed in Iris dead sister's hand a letter which told of all 
the help which she had given them, and laid her in a 
barge covered with black silk ; and the wind arose and 
drove it away until they could see it no more. 

In the meanwhile Lancelot had been brought to the 
water of Morloise, and there he saw a vessel without sail 
or oar ; and as soon as he was in the ship, he felt such 
sweetness as he had never known before, for all the things 
which he thought on or desired, these he had. In this 
joy he laid him down to sleep, for it was yet night : and 
when it was day he woke and saw lying before him the 
body of Sir Percivale's sister with the letter in her hand. 
This letter Sir Lancelot read, and learnt all the things 
which had befallen her and the knights whom she had 
aided. Here he abode a month long, for he was nourished 
by Him who fed His people with manna in the desert. 
But one night, as he rested by the water-side, he heard 
the steps of a horse, and a knight lighted off the steed : 
and when Lancelot had welcomed him, the stranger asked 
him his name. ' I am Lancelot du Lake,' he said. ' Then 
art thou my father,' answered the knight. 'Ah,' said 
Lancelot, ' are ye Gralahad ? ' ' Yea,' he answered ; and 
no tongue can tell their joy, as they embraced each other, 
and talked afterward of many things. So dwelt they with- 
in that ship half-a-year and served Grod by day and night. 
But after this, as they arrived at the edge of a forest, a 
knight clad all in white, and richly horsed, came towards 
them leading a white horse by his right hand : and he 
said to G-alahad, ' Thou hast been long enough with thy 
father ; and now must thou mount this horse, and go 
whither thou mayest be led in the quest of the Sangreal.' 
Then went Gralahad to Lancelot and said, ' Sweet father, I 
know not when I shall see you more.' Then a voice came 



A rthur and his Knights. 1 9 7 

which said, ' Take heed to do well, for the one shall not 
see the other again before the day of doom.' Then said 
Lancelot, < Son Gralahad, since we may not see each other 
more on earth, I pray Grod keep me and you both : ' and 
Gralahad went into the forest. 

And the wind arose and drove Lancelot across the 
water to a castle, where two lions kept the entry by the 
postern door. Then a voice bade him go out of the ship 
and enter the castle where he should see most part of his 
desire. So arming himself, he drew near to the gate, and 
when he saw the lions he drew his sword ; and a dwarf 
coming suddenly smote him so fiercely on the arm that 
the sword fell out of his hand ; and he heard a voice say, 
c man of poor belief, why trustest thou more, in thy 
harness than in thy Maker ? ' Then said Lancelot, ' I 
thank thee, Lord, that Thou reprovest me for my misdeed, 
for now I know that Thou boldest me for Thy servant.' 
So making the sign of the cross he passed the lions safely, 
although they made as though they would do him harm ; 
and going into the castle, he found none within, until he 
came to a chamber which was shut. Here listening he 
heard a voice singing so sweetly that it seemed to come 
from no earthly thing, and he thought that it said, ' Joy 
and honour be to the Father of heaven.' Then Lancelot 
knelt before the chamber, for within it, he knew, lay the 
Sangreal, and he prayed earnestly that he might now see 
some of the things for which he was seeking. Then 
through the opened doors came a burst of light, as from 
all the torches in the world ; but when he drew near to 
enter, a voice said, 6 See thou come not hither ; ' and 
drawing back, he saw in the midst of the chamber a table 
of silver and the holy vessel covered with red samite, and 
round about it stood many angels, of whom one held a 
burning taper, and the other a cross. Before the vessel 
stood a priest, as at the sacring of the mass ; and it 
seemed to Lancelot that above the priest's hands were 



198 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

three men, of whom two put the youngest between the 
priest's hands, that he might lift it up and show it to the 
people. Then, thinking that the priest had great need of 
help to lift so great a burden, Lancelot hastened toward 
the silver table : and straightway he felt as though there 
passed on him a breath of fire, and he fell to the earth as 
a man without life. 

Four and twenty days and nights lay Lancelot still as 
the dead ; and at the end of the days he waked up, and 
when he learnt all that had happened, he said, ' The four 
and twenty days are a penance for the four and twenty 
years during which I have been a sinner.' Then, rising 
up, he put on him first the hair shirt, and over this a shirt 
of linen, and on this again a scarlet robe, and then they 
who stood by knew him to be the good Sir Lancelot ; and 
word was borne to King Pelles who came right gladly to 
greet him, though he had for him heavy tidings, for his 
child the fair Elaine was dead. Four days he abode with 
Pelles, and the Sangreal filled the tables with all manner 
of meats that the heart of man might desire. 

Then departing from the house of King Pelles, he made 
his way at length to Camelot, where he found King Arthur 
and the queen ; but of the knights of the Eound Table 
nearly one-half had been slain and a few only had come 
back, and among these were Ector, Grawaine, and Lionel. 
Great was the joy of Arthur and Gruenevere when they saw 
Sir Lancelot, and they asked him to tell all that had 
befallen him and his fellows. So he told them all the 
story of Gralahad, Percivale, and Bors : and the king said, 
' Would all three were here.' ' That shall never be,' said 
Lancelot, 'for only upon one of these shall thine eyes 
rest again.' 

Now Gralahad, as he went his way, came to the abbey 
where lay King Mo drains who had been long blind ; and 
when the king heard who it was that had come, he rose 
up and said, ' Gralahad, the servant of Jesus Christ, for 



Arthur mid his Knights. 199 

whose coming I have so long tarried, let me rest between 
thine arms, for thou art as the lily and the rose for purity 
and sweetness.' Then Galahad took the king in his arms, 
and the blind man's spirit passed gently away. Then 
Galahad placed him in the earth as a king ought to be 
placed : and passing on he came to a well which boiled with 
great waves ; but so soon as he put his hand to it, it burnt 
no more, and became still : and ever after it was called 
Galahad's well. 

Yet a few days later he reached the Castle of Carbonek 
in the company of Sir Bors and Sir Percivale ; and there 
as they sat in the chamber, a voice said, ' Depart ye who 
ought not to sit at the table of Jesus Christ, for now shall 
the true knights be fed.' So with the three knights re- 
mained only King Pelles and Eliazar his son and a maid 
who was his niece. Then came in nine knights all armed, 
who said that they were come, three from Gaul, three 
from Ireland, and three from Denmark, to be with 
Galahad at the table where the holy meat should be par- 
ted : and presently four women bare in upon a bed a sick 
man wearing a golden crown, who said, ' Ye be welcome, 
Galahad ; much have I desired your coming, so great 
and so long has been my pain and anguish : but now I 
trust the end of my pains is come.' Then said a voice 
again, ' There be two among you that are not in the quest 
of the Sangreal, and therefore depart ye ; ' and King Pelles 
and his son went their way. 

Then straightway the knights deemed that four angels 
bare in a chair a man clothed in likeness of a bishop, and 
set him before the silver table whereon was the Sangreal, 
and on his forehead were letters which said, ' See ye here 
Joseph the first bishop of Christendom.' And the knights 
marvelled, for that bishop was dead more than three 
^hundred years. Then they heard the chamber doors open 
and angels came in, two bearing waxen candles, the third 
a towel, and the fourth a spear which bled three drops 



200 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

that fell within a box which he carried in his other 
hand : and when the candles were set on the table, they 
covered the vessel with the towel, and the fourth put the 
spear upright upon the vessel. So there, as the bishop 
came to the sacring of the mass, they saw come out of 
the holy vessel one that had all the signs of the passion 
of Jesus Christ, who said, 'My servants and my true 
children, ye shall now see a part of my hidden things, and 
receive the high meat which ye have so long desired.' 
Then said he to Gralahad, ' Knowest thou what I hold 
between my hands ? ' and Gralahad said, ' Nay.' ' This,' 
he said, 'is the holy dish in which I ate the lamb on 
Shrove Tuesday ; and now must thou go hence, and bear 
with thee this holy vessel ; and by the sea-shore ye shall 
find your vessel ready, thou, and Sir Percivale, and Sir 
Bors ; and two of you shall die in my service, and one 
shall come again, bearing tidings.' Then giving them his 
blessing, he vanished away ; and Gralahad having touched 
with his fingers the blood that dropped from the spear, 
anointed the limbs of the maimed king, who started up 
on his feet as a whole man, thanking Grod. 

That same night, at midnight, a voice came among them 
which said, ' My sous and not my chieftains, my friends 
and not my warriors, go hence where ye hope best to do, 
and as I bade you.' So in all haste they went their way, 
and coming to the shore found the ship, which bare them 
away to the city of Sarras ; and there, as they would have 
landed, they saw the ship in which Percivale had placed 
his sister. Then said Percivale, ' She has kept her covenant 
well.' Then with the silver table they went towards the 
city, but it needed a fourth man to aid in bearing it, and 
Gralahad called to an old man who stood by the city gate. 
4 Truly,' said he, ' I have not gone but with crutches these 
ten years.' ' Care thou not,' said Gralabad, ' only help us : ' 
and as soon as he rose to help them, he was whole. Then 
all the city stirred for the tidings of the cripple who had 



Arthur and his Knights. 201 

been healed by the knights who were come thither ; and 
they brought up the body of Sir Percivale's sister and 
buried her, as she had besought them. 

But the king of the city was a tyrant ; and when he 
heard of all that had happened, he took them and pri- 
soned them in his dungeon, and there they lay, fed by the 
Sangreal, till the year was ended, when the king, having 
fallen sick, sent for them to crave their mercy. So when 
the king was dead, the people said that Gralahad should 
be king in his stead, and they placed on his head the 
golden crown. On the morrow, rising early, he saw 
kneeling before the holy vessel a man in the likeness of 
a bishop, who had about him a great company of angels ; 
and when he had ended the sacrament of the mass, he 
called Gralahad, and said, ' Thou shalt see now that which 
thou long hast yearned to see.' Then the old man offered 
to Gralahad the holy wafer, and Gralahad received it gladly 
and meekly ; and he said to him, ' I am Joseph of 
Arimathie, and I have been sent to thee for two things, 
— because thou hast seen the Sangreal, and because thou 
art clean and pure.' 

Then Gralahad went to Percivale and kissed him, and 
commending his soul to Grod, said, ' Bid Sir Lancelot, my 
father, take heed of this unstable world.' So saying he 
kneeled down and prayed, arid then the angels bare away 
his soul to heaven ; and Percivale and Bors saw a hand take 
up the vessel and the spear and bear them away to heaven. 

Since that day, has no man been so hardy as to say that 
he has seen the Sangreal. 

A year and two months from this time Sir Percivale 
dwelt in religious clothing with a hermit, and Sir Bors 
abode with him in his knight's dress. Then Sir Percivale 
passed out of this world, and Bors laid him by the side 
of his sister and Gralahad in the Spiritual Place : and 
hastening thence he journeyed away until he came to 
Camelot, and told to King Arthur and to Sir Lancelot all 



202 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

the things which had happened. ' Eight welcome art thou,' 
said Sir Lancelot, 6 and all that ever I can do for thee 
thou shalt find my poor body ever ready to do, while the 
life remains in it.' ; And be thou sure,' said Bors, 6 that I 
will never part from thee while our lives shall last.' ' I 
will, as thou wilt,' said Sir Lancelot. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE STORY OF THE MAID OF ASTOLAT. 

So the days went on after Sir Lancelot had come back 
from the quest of the Sangreal : and he forgot the words 
which he had spoken, and went back to his old love for 
Queen Gruenevere, and the heart of Gruenevere clave the 
more to him ; but because other ladies and maidens sought 
him to be their champion and he took their parts, there- 
fore was the queen's anger kindled, and she chid Sir 
Lancelot for the cooling of his love. Long he pleaded his 
cause, and told her how but for the love of her he might 
in the search for the holy vessel have done as well as his 
son Sir Gralahad ; but he spake in vain, and Gruenevere bade 
him depart and see her face no more. Then as he was 
going away in heaviness, Sir Bors strove to cheer him, 
and Lancelot told him all the words that had come from 
her lips. ' Heed them not,' said Sir Bors : ' she has spoken 
after this sort before, and she has afterward been the first 
to repent of her words.' Then Lancelot prayed Sir Bors 
to win back for him the love of the queen ; and then went 
his way. Sore was Gruenevere's grief in her heart, but she 
set her face as though she heeded not his departing. 

Now about this time the queen held a feast for certain 
of King Arthur's knights ; and a knight named Pinel, who 
hated Sir Grawaine, placed for him on the table a poisoned 



Arthur and his Knights. 203 

apple, but another knight named Sir Patrise took it and 
ate of it and fell down suddenly dead among them. Great 
was the wrath of the knights, for they deemed it was the 
queen's doing, and Sir Mador, the near kinsman of the 
slain man, charged the queen with the treason, and 
prayed the king that justice might be done upon her. 
Then, though the king besought him not to be over hasty, 
yet would he insist that the great should be dealt with 
as the small : and the king said, ' On the fifteenth day 
be ready in the field before Westminster : and if then any 
knight appear on her behalf, do thou thy best and God 
speed the right : and if thou smite down her champion, 
then must my queen be burnt, and there shall she be ready 
for the judgment.' 

When Arthur was alone with Guenevere, he asked her 
how it all came about, and she told him that she could in 
nowise tell. 'Were Lancelot here, he would do battle 
for thee. Where is he?' asked the king. And this also 
she could not tell him. ' What ails thee,' he said, ' that 
thou canst not keep Lancelot on thy side ? But if thou 
canst not find him, pray Sir Bors to do battle on thy behalf 
for Lancelot's sake.' 

So she made her prayer to Sir Bors : but Bors spake 
roughly. ' I marvel how thou canst ask me to do aught 
for thee, when thou hast chased out of the country the 
man by whom we were most borne up and honoured.' 
Then in great woe she kneeled down and besought him 
to have mercy upon her ; and even as she knelt, King 
Arthur came in, and besought him also, because he was 
sure that she was untruly defamed. So Sir Bors promised, 
although he knew that he should make many a knight 
of the Eound Table angry. Then departing from the 
court he rode to Sir Lancelot, who was right glad that he 
might strike a blow for the queen ; and so he plighted 
his faith that he would be at Westminster on the judg- 
ment day. " But in the mean season there was much talk, 



204 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

and many said plainly that for the queen they had no 
love because she was a destroyer of good knights ; but 
Sir Bors said nay to these words, and that there had been 
treason among them. And even so it was proved at last ; 
for when the day was come, Sir Lancelot appeared on the 
field and smote down Sir Mador, and the queen was 
assoiled of the treason ; and while there was great joy 
with all and Gruenevere sank almost to the earth for shame 
that Lancelot had done to her so great kindness when 
she had dealt by him so unkindly, suddenly there appeared 
among them the Lady of the Lake, and charged Sir Pinel 
openly before the king with the death of Sir Patrise ; 
and Pinel fled from the land as a craven knight, and over 
the tomb of Sir Patrise a writing was placed which told 
all the story, to the fouling of Sir Pinel's name, and the 
assoiling of Queen Gruenevere. 

But other troubles were nigh at hand for her. For, 
when the king bade the heralds proclaim a great tour- 
nament to be held at Camelot, she would not go thither, 
and when Lancelot also tarried behind, the king set forth 
heavy and displeased, and he lodged on the way in a town 
called Astolat. But when he was gone, the queen spake 
with Lancelot, and told him that it would be ill for his 
name and hers if he went not to the justing ; and 
Lancelot said, ' Thou speakest wisely ; but thy wisdom is 
late in coming. Yet will I go at thy bidding : but at the 
justs I will be against the king and his company.' On the 
morrow, then, he rode to Astolat, and when he was come 
thither, the king saw him as he entered into the house of 
Sir Bernard. Presently Lancelot asked him for a shield 
that was not openly known, and Sir Bernard gave him the 
shield of his son, who was hurt the same day that he was 
made knight and was able to fight no more ; and he 
prayed his guest to tell him his name. 6 That I may not 
do now,' he said : ' but if I speed well at the justs, I will 
come again and tell you.' Then Sir Bernard prayed him 



Arthur and his Knights. 205* 

to let his younger son Lavaine ride with him to the 
tourney, and Sir Lavaine was exceedingly eager to go with 
him, but the eyes of his sister, whom men called the Fair 
Maid of Astolat, were fixed eagerly on Sir Lancelot ; and 
Elaine (for this was her name) prayed him to wear a red 
sleeve at the justs as a token of her. Then said Lancelot, 
6 1 have done no such thing for any maiden before ; never- 
theless I will wear thy token, and I leave my shield in thy 
keeping.' 

Bravely and mightily fought the knights when the day 
for the justing had come ; but the bravest and mightiest 
of all was Lancelot, whom none knew save the king only. 
Wherever he bore down on his horse, all were smitten 
before him like corn before the wind, until Sir Bors by 
mischance smote him through the shield into his side, 
and the head of the lance was left in the wound. So great 
was the pain that Sir Lancelot could not tarry to receive 
the prize ; but riding away with Lavaine, he came to a 
wood-side, and there bade him draw the truncheon from 
his side. Loth was Lavaine to do his bidding, for he 
feared that Lancelot might bleed to death ; and when it 
was done, the stream gushed forth as though his life must 
pass away. But Lavaine got him at last to a hermit's 
house, and there the wound was stanched, and slowly his 
strength came back to him. 

Meanwhile King Arthur had returned with his fel- 
lowship to London ; and Sir Grawaine, on the road, 
tarried at Astolat at the house of Sir Bernard, and told 
how the Knight of the Red Sleeve had won the prize over 
all. i Now blessed be Grod,' said Elaine the Fair, ' that he 
sped so well, for he is the first man I have loved in the 
world, and he shall be the last.' ' Knowest thou his 
name ? ' asked Sir Grawaine. ' Nay,' she said, £ I know 
neither his name nor whence he comes ; but well I know 
that I love him.' ' How had you knowledge of him at 
first ? ' said Sir Grawaine. 



2o6 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Then she told him all : and when Grawaine heard of 
the shield he prayed that she would show it to him. 4 It 
is the shield of Sir Lancelot du Lake,' he said when the 
cover had been taken off it. ' Fair maiden, thy honour is 
great, for four and twenty years have I known this knight, 
and never saw I him wear token of any lady or maiden. 
But I fear me that ye may see him again no more.' ' How 
may this be ? ' she said. ' Is he slain ? ' Nay,' said 
Grawaine, ' but he is sorely wounded.' Then Elaine turned 
to her father, and won his leave that she might ride to 
Lancelot and tend him while he lay sick: and Grawaine 
went back to the king and told him all that he had seen 
and heard. 

But the wrath of Queen Gruenevere broke out afresh 
when she knew that Lancelot had borne in the tourney 
the red sleeve of the Maiden of Astolat, and many a hard 
word she spake against him to Sir Bors. And Elaine 
coming to Camelot met her brother Lavaine, and asked 
him how fared her lord Sir Lancelot. ' Who told you,' 
ne asked, ' that his name is Lancelot ? ' ' Sir Grawaine 
knew him by his shield,' she said : and going with her 
brother she reached the hermitage where Lancelot lay. 
There, as she saw him sick and pale in his bed, she could 
not speak, but fell down in a swoon and lay a great while. 
But when her strength came back to her a little, Lancelot 
said to Lavaine, s Bring her to me ; ' and kissing her 
he said, ' Thou puttest me to pain, fair maiden ; where- 
fore weep no more. If thou hast come to cheer me, thou 
art right welcome, and of my wound I trust soon to be 
whole.' So there she tarried, watching him day and 
night, so that never woman did more for man than she 
did for Sir Lancelot. 

Thither, also, after long wandering and search, came 
Sir Bors, for he yearned to throw himself at Lancelot's 
feet, and crave his forgiveness for the wound which he 
had unwittingly given him. And Lancelot said, ' Thou 



Arthur and his Knights. 207 

art right welcome, cousin, but of these matters let us say 
no more. All shall be welcome that Grod sendeth.' Then 
Bors told him of the queen's wrath and of the cause of 
it, and looking at Elaine, he asked, i Is this she whom 
men call the Maiden of Astolat ? ' ' Yes,' said Lancelot, 
i it is she whom I can by no means put from me.' ' Why 
shouldst thou put her from thee ? ' said Bors. 'Happier 
far were it for thee if thou couldst love her ; but of that 
I cannot advise thee. Only I see well that all her love is 
given to thee, nor is she the first that has lost her pain 
upon thee.' 

When three days more were past, Sir Lancelot felt 
himself so strong that he sought to be on his horse again; 
but the steed was fresh and fiery, and as he leaped, he 
made the knight's wound burst forth again, and once 
more Lancelot was well nigh dead. In sore grief 
Elaine knelt beside him and sought to awaken him 
with her kisses; but little could they do until the good 
hermit came and stanched the bleeding. Then Sir Bors 
hastened to the king, to tell him of all that had befallen 
Lancelot, and the king was sorry, but Gruenevere said, ' I 
would he had not his life.' ' His life he shall have,' said 
Bors, ' and except thee none should wish it otherwise but 
we should shorten their lives. Many a time before hast 
thou been wroth with Sir Lancelot, and each time hath 
he been proved to be a true and faithful knight.' 

But at length the time came when Lancelot must 
depart, for now was he well and strong again, and so 
great was the love that Elaine bare that in nowise could 
she withstand it. 'Have mercy on me,' she said, 'and 
leave me not to die.' ' What wouldst thou ? ' asked Lan- 
celot. ' To be thy wife,' said the maid of Astolat. ' Nay,' 
answered Lancelot, ' never shall I be a wedded man.' 
' Then be thou my love,' she said ; but in that too he said 
her nay, for he would not do her wrong. ' Then must I 
die for my love,' said Elaine. And ever from that hour, 



208 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

when Sir Lancelot was gone, she pined away, until, when 
ten days were past, she was shriven, and the priest bade 
her leave such thoughts. 'Why should I leave such 
thoughts ? ' she said, ' am I not an earthly woman ? Yea, 
while my breath is in my body, I will complain, for I do 
no offence though I love an earthly man, and none have 
I loved but Sir Lancelot, and never shall I.' Then calling 
her father and her brother, she bade them write for her 
a letter of which she gave the words. ' When I am dead,' 
she said, ' and while my body is yet warm, let this letter 
be put in my right hand, and my hand bound fast with 
the letter until I be cold ; and let me be put in a fair 
bed with all the richest clothes that I have about me ; and 
so let my bed and all my richest clothes be borne with me 
in a chariot to the next place where Thames is ; and there 
let me be put within a barge, and let my barge be covered 
with black samite over and over. Thus, father, I beseech 
you, let it be done.' And when she had so said, she died ; 
and they put her body in the barge, and sent it on the 
river to Westminster. And so for her love died the maid 
of Astolat. 

Now at Westminster King Arthur was speaking with 
the queen near a window, when they spied a barge, and 
marvelled what it could mean ; and going down to the 
river, they found in the barge, wrapped in cloth of gold, 
and lying as though she smiled, the body of the fair 
Elaine; and the queen spying the letter in her right 
hand told the king, who carried it away and bade the 
clerk read it ; and the words of the letter said only this : 
1 Most noble Sir Lancelot, death hath made a severance 
between us for thy love, for I whom men called the Fair 
Maiden of Astolat was your lover. Pray thou for my 
soul, as thou art peerless.' And all wept who heard the 
words ; but when Lancelot came, whom the king sent for, 
he said, ' I am heavy for the fair maiden's death. Yet 
was it none of my devising, for she loved me out of 



Arthur and his Knights. 209 

measure, and nought would content her but that she 
must be either my wife or my love, and neither of these 
things could I grant to her.' Many a knight came that 
day to look on her fair face, and on the morrow they 
buried her richly. And when all was done, the queen 
sent for Lancelot and craved his forgiveness because she 
had been wroth with him without cause. ' It is not the 
first time that thou hast been thus wroth with me,' said 
Sir Lancelot. 



CHAPTEE XIX. 

THE JUDGMENT OF QUEEN GUENEVEBE. 

» - 

Then awhile they abode joyously together ; and when the 
merry month of May came round, Queen Gruenevere rode 
into the forest with her knights of the Bound Table, all 
clad in green, and ten ladies with her. But even while 
they were sporting among the trees and flowers, an evil 
knight watched them named Meliagrance, the son of King 
Bagdemagus, who had long loved the queen and sought to 
steal her away when Sir Lancelot might not be with her ; 
and now when he saw that she had but ten knights with 
her, he came with eightscore men well harnessed, and 
bade the queen and her knights stand still. 'Thou 
shamest all knighthood and thyself,' said the queen. ' Be 
that as it may,' said Sir Meliagrance, 6 I have loved you 
many a year, and now I will take you as I find you.' 
Stoutly the ten knights fought for Queen Gruenevere, until 
of the men of Sir Meliagrance forty lay dead upon the 
field. But they were sore bestead ; and Gruenevere cried 
out for pity and sorrow, ' Sir Knight, I will go with you 
upon this covenant, that thou wilt save these knights, 
and that they be led with me whithersoever thou mayst 
take me.' 



2 io Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

So they rode together, and Sir Meliagrance was sorely 
afraid lest the queen might send tidings of her durance 
to Sir Lancelot. But though he kept close watch, yet 
was Gruenevere able to speak for a moment with a child of 
her chamber, and she charged him to bear a ring to Sir 
Lancelot and bid him come to rescue her. ' Spare not 
thy horse,' said she, 'either for water or for land.' So 
when the child spied his time he rode swiftly away, and 
although Sir Meliagrance sent men after him their quest 
was vain. Then said he to Gruenevere, ' I see that thou 
wouldst betray me, but I shall make ready for Sir Lan- 
celot's coming.' 

Swiftly rode the child to Westminster, and more swiftly 
sped Sir Lancelot back, leaving charge to Sir Lavaine 
that he should hasten after him with all his might, to 
rescue the queen, her knights, and her ladies,, from her 
traitorous enemies. And many a peril had he to pass on 
the road, for Sir Meliagrance placed men who shot his 
horse ; and at last a cart came by for gathering wood, but 
when he prayed the woodman to let him ride on it, the 
woodman said nay, not once or twice ; and straightway 
the knight slew him. Then his fellow was afraid, and 
brought Sir Lancelot in his cart to the castle where the 
queen lay, and thrusting back the gate, Lancelot smote 
the porter under the ear with his gauntlet so that his neck 
brake. 

Then was the traitor heart of Meliagrance bowed down 
with fear, and hastening into the presence of Queen Grue- 
nevere he threw himself at her feet and craved mercy, 
and put all things in the castle at her will. ' Better is 
peace than war,' said Gruenevere, and she went to greet 
Sir Lancelot, who, standing in the inner court, bade the 
traitor come forth and do battle. 'Why art thou so 
moved, Sir Lancelot?' asked the queen. 'Why dost 
thou put this question to me ?' answered Lancelot ; ' thou 
oughtest to be more wroth than I, for thou hast the hurt 



Arthitr and his Knights. 211 

and the dishonour.' ' Thou sayest true,' said the queen, 
' and I thank thee. Yet must thou come in peaceably, 
for all things here are put into my hands, and the knight 
is sorely ashamed for his wrong doing.' ' That may well 
be,' said Sir Lancelot, 'yet are there none upon earth 
save thee and my lord King Arthur, who should stay me 
from leaving the heart of Sir Meliagrance full cold before 
I depart hence.' Then she took him by his bare hand, 
for he had taken off his gauntlet, and she brought him 
into her chamber, where her ladies unarmed him, and 
the ten wounded knights rejoiced exceedingly when they 
beheld him ; and for many a day after he was called the 
Knight of the Cart. 

Now Lancelot and the queen talked together, and she 
made him promise that the same night he should come 
to a window barred with iron towards a garden when alt 
folk were asleep. All that day the queen tended the 
wounded knights; and when at night Sir Lancelot was 
in the chamber set apart for him, he told Sir Lavaine 
that he must go and speak with the queen. ' Let me go 
with you,' said Sir Lavaine, 'for sorely do I fear the 
treachery of Sir Meliagrance.' ' I thank ye,' said Lancelot, 
' but I will have no one with me.' Then sword in hand 
he went to a place where he had spied a ladder, which he 
carried to the window, and then he spake of many things 
with the queen. ' Would I were by thy side,' said he at 
length. ' I will, as thou wilt,' answered Gruenevere. ' Now 
shall I prove my might,' he said, and seizing the bars he 
wrested them clean out from the wall, but one of the 
bars wounded his head to the bone ; and when he could 
tarry there no longer, he went out again at the window, 
putting the bars in their place as well as he could. 

But in the morning Sir Meliagrance espied the blood 
of Sir Lancelot in the queen's chamber, and he deemed 
that it was the blood of one of the wounded knights, and 
that the queen was false to King Arthur. Therewith he 

p2 



212 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

charged her with the wrong doing, and the ten knights in 
hot anger told him that he said falsely and that they 
would make good their word upon their bodies ; and the 
tidings of these things were brought to Sir Lancelot, and 
coming forth he met Sir Meliagrance, who told him again 
of that which had befallen. ' Beware what thou doest,' 
said Sir Lancelot. c And beware thou too,' said Melia- 
grance, ' for peerless though thou mayest be, yet if thou 
sidest with them, thou wilt take part in a wrong quarrel, 
for Grod will have a stroke in every battle.' ' Grod is to 
be feared,' answered Lancelot ; ' but I tell you plainly 
that none of these knights was here with my lady Queen 
Gruenevere, and that will I prove by my hands.' So they 
exchanged gloves, and gaged to do battle on the eighth 
day in the field beside Westminster. 6 In the mean 
season,' said • Sir Meliagrance, ' plot thou no treason 
against me.' ' Never have I plotted treason against any,' 
answered Lancelot, 'and that thou very well knowest.' 
Then after dinner Meliagrance asked Lancelot if he would 
see the passages of the castle ; and Lancelot followed him 
in all knightly faith and trust, until he trod on a trap 
and the board rolled, and he fell ten fathom down into 
a dungeon full of straw. 

Great was the marvelling when Sir Lancelot could 
nowhere be seen ; but at last they deemed that he had 
gone his way as he was wont to do suddenly. Then Sir 
Lavaine got together litters for the wounded knights, 
and he journeyed with them all and with the queen and 
her ladies to Westminster, and told the king all that 
had happened, and how Meliagrance had gaged to do 
battle on the eighth day with Lancelot. < He has taken 
upon him a great thing,' said the king : ' but where is Sir 
Lancelot ? ' ' We wot not where he is,' answered Lavaine, 
'but we deem he has ridden forth upon some errand.' 
' Let him be,' said Arthur ; ' he will meet his pledge, if he 
be not trapped with some treason.' 






Arthur and his Knights. 213 

Meanwhile Sir Lancelot lay in the dungeon, where 
every day a maiden brought him food and drink, and 
wooed him to love her. ' Ye are not wise,' she said, when 
he would not grant her prayer, 4 for but by my will thou 
canst not go forth, and if thou be not at Westminster on 
the day of battle, the queen will die in the flames.' ' Grod 
forbid,' he said, ' that she should be burnt for my default : 
but be thou sure they will deem, if I come not, that I am 
in prison or sick or dead ; and sure I am that some knight 
of my kinsfolk will take up my quarrel,' At last on the 
day of battle she said to him, ' Thou art over-hard of 
heart; and if thou wilt but kiss me, I should set thee 
free with thy armour and with the best horse in the castle 
stables.' < Nay,' said Lancelot, ' I know not if there be 
any wrong in kissing thee : ' so he kissed her and went 
his way on a white horse which she gave him : and as he 
left her he said, ' Thou hast done a good deed, and for it I 
will do thee a service if ever it be in my power.' 

The lists were made ready at Westminster, and the 
queen stood by the pile of wood, and Meliagrance looked 
for judgment against her because Sir Lancelot came not, 
and all were ashamed that the queen should be burnt for 
this cause. Then said Sir Lavaine to the king, ' Sure am 
I that Lancelot would be here, if he were not sick or in 
prison or dead ; and therefore, t pray you, suffer me to do 
battle in his stead to save my lady the queen.' ' Be it as 
thou wilt,' said the king, ' for I dare to say that this 
knight's charge is false, seeing there is not one of the 
wounded knights but says that it is untrue, and that if 
they could stand they would prove their words with their 
bodies.' But even as the heralds were going to cry the 
onset, Sir Lancelot was seen speeding on with all the 
strength of his white steed. ' Ho ! and abide,' cried the 
king : and Lancelot coming up told how Meliagrance had> 
dealt with him from first to last, so that all who heard him 
felt shame of the traitor. So in the battle Sir Lancelot 



214 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

bare down on him and smote him with the first blow, and 
Meliagrance said, ' I yield me as overcome ; save my life.' 
Then was Lancelot sore vexed, for he longed greatly to 
slay Sir Meliagrance, and he looked to the queen to see 
what she would have; and she made a sign that Sir 
Meliagrance should die. ' Eise up,' said Lancelot, ' and 
do battle to the uttermost.' 6 Nay, I rise not,' he 
answered, ' until ye take me as recreant and overcome.' 
' That will I not,' said Lancelot : ' but I will make thee a 
large proffer. I will leave unarmed my head and the left 
quarter of my body, and my left hand shall be bound 
behind me ; and so will we fight together.' ' So be it,' 
said Meliagrance ; and so was it done ; but in spite of his 
vantage his head was smitten in twain by the first blow 
from Sir Lancelot's sword ; and more was Lancelot 
cherished of the king and queen than ever he had been 
before. 

After this King Arthur held his court at Carlisle ; and 
thither was brought in a litter Sir Urre of Hungary, 
whose mother had borne him for seven years from land to 
land in quest of some one who might stanch the bleeding 
wounds which he had received at the hands of a knight 
whom he had slain in Spain ; and this knight's mother 
was a sorceress, who said that Sir Urre's wounds should 
ever remain open until ' they were searched by the best 
knight in the world. 

Then Sir Urre's mother told the king all the story ; and 
Arthur said, ' I will handle his wounds, not that I think 
myself worthy to heal your son, but because I would 
encourage other good knights to do as I will do.' So the 
king softly handled him, and a hundred and ten knights 
after him ; but still the wounds bled on. ' Where is Sir 
Lancelot,' cried the king, ' that he is not here at this 
time ? ' and as they spoke of many things, Lancelot was 
seen riding towards them ; and when Sir Urre's sister saw 
him, she ran to her brother and said, ' Brother, here is a 



Arthur and his Knights. 215 

knight come to whom my heart greatly turns.' ' Yea,' 
said Urre, ' and so doth mine more than to all others that 
have searched me ; and now I hope to be healed.' Then 
said the king to Lancelot that he must now essay what 
they had sought to do : but he answered that he dared 
not to thrust himself forward when so many noble knights 
and the king had tried in vain before him. ' Nay, then, 
thou shalt not choose,' said Arthur, ' for I will charge thee 
to do as we have done.' And not only did the knights 
pray him so to do, but Sir Urre besought him earnestly 
to heal him, ' for,' he said, ' since thou earnest my wounds 
seem as though they hurt me not.' Then Lancelot 
kneeled down by the wounded knight, and prayed that 
(rod might give him grace to do that which of himself he 
might never do ; and after this, each wound, as he laid 
his hand upon it, healed up and left the flesh as fair as it 
had been before Sir Urre was hurt. Then all knelt down 
and gave thanks to Grod, and Lancelot wept as a child. 
So came Sir Urre of Hungary into Carlisle lusty and 
strong, and there were justings in which he and Sir 
Lavaine wrought best, and after this Lavaine was married 
to Sir Urre's sister. 



CHAPTEE XX. 

THE SIEGE OF JOYOUS GARD. 



In merry May, when Summer comes to gladden men with 
fresh flowers, the flower of knighthood was crushed ; and 
this evil was wrought by two unhappy knights, Agravaine 
and Mordred. For these two hated Gruenevere, and daily 
and nightly they watched for Sir Lancelot ; and at last 
Agravaine said openly that they must tell the king of the 
falsehood of the queen. ' Speak not of such matters to me,' 



2 1 6 Popitlar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

said Grawaine to his brothers, ' for I will not be of your 
counsel : ' and so said Sir Graheris and Sir Grareth. ' Then 
will I be with you,' said Mordred. 'I would that ye 
left all this,' answered Grawaine, ' for I know what will fall 
of it.' 4 Fall of it what may,' said Agravaine, ' I will show 
all unto the king.' And even so, in spite of all that Grawaine 
and Graheris and Grareth might say, to the king they came 
and charged the queen and Sir Lancelot of treason. ' If it 
be so,' said Arthur, c I would that Lancelot be taken in the 
deed, for I know no knight that is able to match him, and 
I should be loth to begin such a thing unless I might 
have proofs upon it.' Then Agravaine counselled the king- 
to send word to the queen that he should be away one 
night, that so Gruenevere might send for Lancelot or 
Lancelot go to Gruenevere, and thus they should be en- 
trapped. So the next day the king went hunting, and sent 
this message to the queen : and in the evening Sir Lancelot 
told Bors that he would go and speak with Gruenevere. 
'Nay, do not thus,' said Bors, 'for I fear sorely that 
Agravaine is on the watch to do you shame.' ' Fear not,' 
answered Lancelot ; ' the queen has sent for me, and I will 
not be so much a coward but she shall see me.' 

So Lancelot passed into the queen's chamber ; and while 
he was yet there, Sir Agravaine and Mordred came with 
twelve knights, and cried out to him, ' Now, traitor, thou 
art taken : ' and all fourteen were armed as for a battle. 
Then said Lancelot to Gruenevere, 6 Let me have but some 
armour, and I shall soon stint their malice.' ' Alas ! ' she 
said, ' I have none here, and much I fear that our long 
love is coming to its end, and against so many armed men 
thou canst not stand.' Louder yet shouted the knights 
outside, until Lancelot said that death were better than 
to endure all this pain. Then taking the queen in his 
arms, he kissed her and said, ' Most noble Christian queen, 
pray for my soul if I be here slain, and trouble not thyself; 
for well I know that Sir Urre and Sir Bors, and other my 



A rthur and his Knights. 217 

kinsfolk will rescue thee and will carry thee away to my 
lands where thou mayest live like a queen.' ' Nay,' she 
said, ' that may not be, for if thou art slain I shall not care 
to live, and I will take my death as meekly as ever did any 
Christian queen.' 

Then Lancelot made ready for the fight, and opening 
the door he gave space for one man only to come ; and in 
strode a stalwart knight, named Colgrevance of Grore; 
and before he could strike, Lancelot smote him dead with 
a buffet upon the helmet ; and drawing the body within 
the door, he donned the dead man's armour, and so har- 
nessed he slew Agravaine and the twelve knights, and Mor- 
dred alone remained alive, and he fled away wounded. Then 
turning to the queen he said, ' I fear me all our true love 
is brought to an end, for now will King Arthur be my foe. 
But if it please thee to abide with me, I will save you from 
all dangers so far as I may.' So Lancelot kissed Ghienevere, 
and either gave other a ring, and the knight went to his 
own lodging. 

After this Lancelot took counsel with Sir Bors, who said 
that they must take the woe with the weal, and that they 
should be able to do as much harm to their enemies as 
their enemies could do to them. So they summoned all 
who would take their side, and there were reckoned of 
them one hundred and forty knights. 

6 And now say what I shall do,' asked Lancelot, ' if the 
king adjudge the queen to the flames ? ' With one voice 
they cried, ' Eescue her. As many times ye have done 
for other men's quarrels, so do now for your own.' ' But 
even this grieves me,' he answered, ' for in rescuing her I 
must do much harm, and it may be that I shall destroy 
some of my best friends to my great grief ; and if I rescue 
her, where shall I keep her ? ' 6 That shall be the least 
care of all,' said Sir Bors. 6 Did not Tristram by your will 
keep Isolte the Fair for three years in Joyous Grard? 
There may ye keep her, and afterward bring her back to 



2 1 8 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

the king, and it may be ye shall have love and thank where 
others shall have none.' ' Nay,' said Sir Lancelot, ' but 
have I not a warning in what befel Sir Tristram, for when 
he had brought the fair Isolte from Joyous Gard into 
Cornwall, did not the traitor King Mark slay him, as he 
sat harping before her, by thrusting a glaive into his 
heart ? ' ' Yea, so it was,' answered Bors ; ' but Mark was 
ever false, and Arthur is ever true.' 

Wounded and covered with blood Mordred came before 
King Arthur, and told him how he alone of the fourteen 
knights remained alive, and how Lancelot in the queen's 
chamber had slain them all. ' Alas ! ' said the king, ' he 
is a peerless man, and alas ! that ever he should be against 
me ; for now is the noble fellowship of the Eound Table 
broken for ever; and now the queen must die.' Then 
Gawaine besought the king to tarry yet awhile before he 
suffered the judgment to be done, ' for,' he said, ' it may 
be that Lancelot was with the queen for no ill intent, and 
many a time has he rescued her and rescued thee ; and I 
dare to say that the queen is both good and true, and 
that Sir Lancelot will prove this upon his body.' ' In 
good sooth I doubt not he will,' said the king, ' for so 
mighty is he that none may withstand him, and therefore 
for her he shall fight no more : and she shall have the law. 
Yea, if I may get Sir Lancelot, he too shall die shamefully.' 
6 May I never see it,' answered Gawaine. ' Why say ye 
so ? ' cried Arthur ; ' has he not slain your brother Sir 
Agravaine, and well-nigh killed your brother Sir Mordred ?' 
6 In truth he has,' said Gawaine, ' but I gave them 
warning what would befall in the end ; but they would 
not hearken to me, and I will not lay their deaths to his 
charge.' Then said the king, 'Make ready, thou and 
thy brothers Gaheris and Gareth, to bring the queen to 
the fire.' ' That will I never do,' answered Gawaine, ' and 
never shall it be said that I had part or lot in her death.' 
6 Then,' said the king, ' suffer your brothers to be there.' 



Arthur and his Knights. 219 

4 They are young,' answered Grawaine, < and cannot say you 
nay.' Then spake the two brothers, ' Sir, thou mayest 
command us, but it is sorely against our will ; but if we 
be there we will come unarmed and in no harness of war.' 
And even so they did, and they went forth with the queen 
to the place where the fire should be kindled ; but one 
whom Lancelot sent to see what should happen had gone 
back with the tidings, and like a whirlwind came Lancelot 
with his men, and smote on the right hand and on the 
left all who stood in harness round the queen ; and there 
was a great thronging and crushing, and in the tumult 
the sword of Sir Lancelot smote down the good knights 
Graheris and Grareth, and their bodies were found in the 
thickest of the press. So, having rescued the queen, he 
rode with her to his castle of Joyous Grard. 

6 Alas ! that ever I wore a crown,' said the king when 
he heard the tidings, ' for now have I lost the fairest fel- 
lowship that ever Christian king held together. And 
now I charge you all, tell not Sir Grawaine of the death 
of his brothers, for if he hears the news it will well 
nigh drive him mad. Ah me ! that Lancelot should slay 
Grareth, who loved him above all earthly men.' < That is 
truth,' said some knights, < but Lancelot knew them not 
in the hustling of the fight, and he willed not to slay 
either.' ' It may be,' said the king : < but their death will 
cause the greatest war that ever was. Alas ! Agravaine, 
for thine evil will, that thou and Mordred should cause 
all this sorrow.' 

Then there came one to Grawaine and told how Lancelot 
had rescued the queen. ' In that,' said Grawaine, ' he has 
done a knightly deed ; but where are my brethren ? ' 
6 They are slain,' answered the messenger, ' and it is noised 
that Lancelot slew them.' ' That may I not believe,' said 
Sir Grawaine, ' for Grareth loved him better than all other 
men.' < Nevertheless,' said the man, ' it is noised that 
Lancelot slew him.' Then G-awaine swooned away for his 



220 Popttlar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

sorrow ; and when he arose, he ran hastily to the king 
his uncle, and told him how his brothers had been slain ; 
and the king said that their deaths must be avenged, ' I 
make you now a promise,' answered Grawaine, ' that I will 
never fail Lancelot until he or I be slain. Get you then 
our friends together ; and I shall seek him, if it be through 
seven kingdoms.' 'Ye need not seek him so far,' said 
the king, 6 for Lancelot will abide us in Joyous Grard.' 

So writs were sent to summon all who would fight for 
the king, and a mighty host was gathered to lay siege to 
Joyous Grard : but Lancelot was loth to fight against the 
man who had made him a knight, and he kept all his 
people within the castle wall. But one day in harvest 
time he looked over the walls, and spake with the king 
and Sir Grawaine, and the king challenged him to come 
forth and fight. ' Grod forbid,' said Lancelot, ' that I 
should encounter the noble king who made me a knight.' 
' Fie on thy fair speech,' answered the king. e I am now 
thy mortal foe, for thou hast slain my knights and dis- 
honoured my queen.' c Say what thou wilt,' said Lancelot ; 
6 with you I will not strive ; nor is there any knight 
under heaven that dare make it good upon my person 
that ever I have dealt traitorously by you. Many a time 
have I done battle for the queen in other men's quarrels ; 
I have more right to do so now in my own. Take her 
then into your grace, for she is both true and good.' 
' Yea,' cried Grawaine, ' the king shall have both his queen 
and thee, and shall slay you both as it may please him. 
What cause hadst thou to slay my brothers who loved thee 
more than all other men ? ' ' Well thou knowest,' said 
Lancelot, c that it was done unwittingly, and that of free 
will I had as soon have slain my nephew Sir Bors.' ' Thou 
liest,' said Sir Grawaine ; ' and while I live, I will make 
war upon thee.' 6 Little hope then is there of peace,' said 
Lancelot, ' if thy mind be thus set ; but if it were not so, 
I should not doubt soon to have the good grace of the king.' 



A rthur and his Knights. 221 

In this Sir Lancelot spake truth ; and by Sir Grawaine only 
was Arthur withheld from accord with Lancelot. 

Then at Grawaine's bidding all Arthur's knights called 
on Lancelot to come forth as a false and recreant knight ; 
and Lancelot's people would no more tarry within the 
castle walls, and he led them forth to the battle, charging 
all in any wise to save the king and Sir Grawaine. In this 
fight Sir Grawaine smote down Sir Lionel, who was borne 
away into the castle, but Sir Bors encountered with King 
Arthur and bare him to the ground. ' Shall I make an 
end to this war ? ' he said to Sir Lancelot, meaning that 
he would slay the king. ' Lay not thy hands on him,' 
cried Sir Lancelot, and lighting down he placed the 
king on his horse again, and said, ' for (rod's love stint 
this strife. Always I forbear you, but you and yours 
forbear not me : and call to mind also the things that I 
have done in times past.' Then the tears streamed from 
Arthur's eyes, as he thought on the courtesy which was in 
Lancelot more than in any other man; and the King 
could look on him no more, and riding away he said, ' Alas ! 
that ever this war began.' But presently Grawaine and 
Bors fought together, and both were sorely wounded ; and 
after this Arthur's men were not so eager for the fray as 
they had been. 

The tidings of this war were borne through all 
Christendom ; and at last they were brought to the pope, 
who wrote bulls charging the king straightly to accord 
with Sir Lancelot and to take his queen back again to 
him. And when the Bishop of Carlisle showed the 
king these bulls, he knew not what to do, for Grawaine 
would not suffer him to go back to the old friendship 
with Sir Lancelot. So it was covenanted that the king 
should take back the queen, and that Sir Lancelot 
should have the king's word and seal that he should 
bring the queen and go back safely. So went the bishop 
to Joyous Grard, and told Lancelot of the pope's will. 



222 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Then said Lancelot, ' More shall I rejoice to take her 
back than I rejoiced to bring her here ; but I go not un- 
less it be made sure to me that she will be free and that 
henceforth no words shall be cast against her.' ' Have no 
fear,' said the bishop, 4 the pope must be obeyed ; ' 
and then he showed the pope's writing and King Arthur's ; 
and Lancelot said, ' This is sure enough, for never Arthur 
brake a promise.' 

So all was made ready, and Queen Gruenevere went forth 
with Lancelot from Joyous Grard, clad both in white 
cloth of gold tissue, and with them a hundred knights in 
green velvet, each with a branch of olive in his hand in 
token of peace ; and when they reached the Castle of 
Carlisle, Lancelot stood before the king and said, ' At the 
pope's will I have brought the queen ; and ready I am as 
ever to prove upon my body that she is both good and 
true ; but thou hast given heed to lying men, and this 
has caused debate between us. And once more would I 
say that, had not the right been on my side, I might not 
alone have had power to withstand and slay so many 
knights when they called me recreant and traitor as I 
stood in the queen's chamber.' ' They called thee right,' 
said Grawaine. ' Nay,' answered Lancelot, ' in their quarrel 
they proved themselves not right ; but ye ought to re- 
member what I have done for you in times past, for if I 
could have your good-will, I should trust to have the 
king's good grace.' ' The king may do as he will,' said 
Grawaine, i but betwixt thee and me there can be no peace, 
for thou hast slain my brothers traitorously, and without 
pity.' 6 Have not I said,' answered Lancelot, ' that their 
death is my great grief? And now am I ready to walk 
the land barefoot, and at every ten miles to found a 
house where they may pray always for their souls ; and 
this were fairer and holier than to make war upon me, 
and this to no purpose.' Then was every eye that looked 
on Lancelot filled with tears, saving only Grawaine, who 



A rthtir and his Knights. 223 

said, ' I have heard thy words and thy proffers, and the 
king may do as he wills ; but if he accords with thee, he 
shall lose my service ; for thou art false to the king and 
to me.' ' Nay,' said Lancelot, ' if thou chargest me with 
this, I must answer thee.' ' We are past that at this 
time,' said Grawaine ; ' for the pope's charge and the king's 
pledge thou art safe to go back now ; but in fifteen days 
thou art safe no more.' Then Lancelot sighed, and as 
the tears fell on his cheek, he said, ' Alas ! most noble 
Christian realm, whom I have loved above all other 
realms, now must I leave thee, banished and in shame. 
Well is it said that in man's life there is no sure abiding.' 
And to the queen he said, ' Madam, now must I depart 
from you and from this noble fellowship for ever ; but if 
ever ye be hartf bestead by false tongues, send me word, 
I pray you, and if it be in the power of man, I will 
deliver you.' Then he kissed the queen, and before all he 
said, ' Let me see now who will dare to say that the queen 
is not true to her lord.' 

So, while all wept for sorrow, Lancelot departed from 
the court for ever, and took his way to Joyous Grard, which 
ever after he called Dolorous Grard. Thence, having taken 
counsel with his knights, he passed over the sea and sailed 
to Benwick, and made his knights kings and princes in 
the land; and thither came also Arthur and Grawaine with 
threescore thousand men to make war upon him. But 
even as before, Lancelot was loth to fight against the king, 
and he sent forth a damsel who should speak with King 
Arthur, if so be he might make peace. And when she 
was brought before him and told him of the large proffers 
of Sir Lancelot the king was eager to bear accord with 
him, and all the lords prayed him to go back to the old 
friendship ; but still Sir Grawaine said, ' Now that thou 
art thus far on thy journey, wilt thou turn again?' 
6 Nay,' answered Arthur, ' I will follow thy counsel ; but 
speak thou to the maiden, for I cannot speak for pity.' 



224 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Then said Grawaine, 6 Damsel, tell Sir Lancelot that it is 
wasted labour to sue to mine uncle now ; and say to him 
from me that I shall never leave him until he be slain or 
I.' So she went her way weeping ; and when Sir Lancelot 
had this answer the tears ran down his cheeks. But his 
knights came round him and said, ' Why weep ? can we 
not match these in the field ? ' 6 Yea, that we may,' 
said Lancelot ; ' yet was I never so loth to do battle, for 
I cannot strike at the man who made me knight.' 

So came Arthur and his men to Benwick and sat down 
before it, and day by day there was fighting and slaying 
of men; but when six months were past, one day Sir 
Grawaine called to Sir Lancelot to come forth as a coward 
and a craven ; and when he heard these words Lancelot 
put on his harness and came forth for the battle. But none 
knew save King Arthur only that every day from the ninth 
hour until noon Grawaine's strength increased threefold, 
once for each hour, and after that he became as he had 
been before. So for those three hours Lancelot struggled 
hard against him, marvelling that he could do no more 
than shield himself against the strokes of his enemy, but 
when he felt that Grawaine had gone back to his own 
strength he said, ' Ye have done your part, and now must 
I do mine ; ' and soon Sir Grawaine was smitten down. 
But his hate and his rage were not conquered, and he 
charged Lancelot to slay him, or he would fight with him 
again to the death as soon as he might. s Nay,' said Lan- 
celot, ' I cannot slay a fallen knight, but I will withstand 
thee as I may.' 

In a few days Grawaine was healed of his wound, and 
again he charged Lancelot to come forth as a recreant 
and craven knight. But it came to pass, as in the former 
fight, that Lancelot stood on his guard while Grawaine's 
strength increased, and once more smote him down after 
noontide. Then as he lay struggling on the ground he 
said to Sir Lancelot, ' I am not yet slain : come near me 



Arthur and his Knights. 225 

and do this battle to the uttermost.' 'Nay,' answered 
Lancelot, s when I see thee on thy feet I will withstand 
thee, but I cannot smite a wounded man.' ' Be sure then,' 
answered Grawaine, ' that when I am whole I will do battle 
with thee again.' 

For a month Grawaine lay sick ; but when he was now 
well nigh ready for the fight, there came tidings which 
made Arthur hasten with his host to his own country. 



CHAPTEE XXI. 



THE LAST DATS OF ARTHUR, GUENEVERE, AND LANCELOT. 

When King Arthur sailed with his people for Benwick, he 
left Mordred his sister's son to be ruler over his land, and 
placed Queen Gruenevere under his governance. But when 
Arthur was gone, Mordred caused false letters to be 
written which said that the king was dead, and he made 
the people choose him king and got himself crowned at 
Canterbury. Then going to Camelot he told the queen 
plainly that she must become his wife, and he named a 
day on which they should be wedded. But Gruenevere 
asked only that he would suffer her to go to London to 
get ready what might be needed for the marriage ; and 
Mordred trusted her for her fair speech and suffered her 
to depart. But Gruenevere, when she came to London, 
shut herself in the Tower and kept it with many knights 
and men, and Mordred in great wrath came and laid 
siege to the Tower in vain. Then came the Bishop of 
Canterbury to him and said, ' Wilt thou shame thyself 
and all knighthood ? How mayest thou wed thy father's 
wife? Leave this wish, or I will curse thee with bell, 
book, and candle.' ' I defy thee,' said Mordred, ' do thy 
worst.' So the bishop went away and cursed him; 
but when Mordred sought to slay him, he went to 

Q 



226 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Crlastonbury and served as priest hermit in a chapel. And 
soon word came to Mordred that Arthur was coming back 
to his own land ; and he summoned folk to his standard, 
and many came, for they said that with Arthur was 
nought but war and strife, and with Mordred was much 
joy and bliss. So with a great host he came towards 
Dover, and there waited on the shore to hinder his father 
from landing in his own realm. But his people could 
not withstand Arthur and his hosts, and Mordred fled 
away with those that remained alive. 

When the battle was over, Sir Grawaine was found in a 
boat half-dead ; and the heart of King Arthur was well- 
nigh broken for sorrow, for in Lancelot and in Grawaine 
he had ever most joy. 'My death-day is come,' said 
Grawaine, ' but it is through my own wilfulness and hasti- 
ness, for I am smitten upon the old wound which Sir 
Lancelot gave me. But give me now pen, ink, and paper 
that I may write to him with my own hands.' So Grawaine 
wrote to Lancelot, telling him how he had come by his 
death, and praying him to come and see his tomb, for the 
great love which there had been between them, and to re- 
member the old days before this evil war began. So at 
the hour of noon Sir Grawaine died ; and it was told to the 
king that Sir Mordred lay with a new host on Barham 
Down. And the king went thither, and there was another 
battle, and Mordred fled away to Canterbury. 

But yet the war went on, and at the last it was agreed 
that King Arthur should on a set day meet Mordred on a 
down beside Salisbury. On the eve of that day Arthur 
dreamed that he was sitting in a chair whicjj was fast to 
a wheel, and far beneath lay a deep black water in which 
were all manner of serpents and noisome things, and 
suddenly he thought that the wheel turned round and he 
fell among the serpents, and each seized him by a limb. 
Then he waked up in great dread, and after a while he 
slumbered again, not sleeping nor thoroughly waking, 



A rthur and his Knights. 227 

and he thought that Sir Grawaine came to him and many 
fair ladies with him ; and he said, ' Welcome my sister's 
son ; I deemed thou hadst been dead, and I thank Grod to 
see thee now alive ; but who be these who have come with 
thee?' 'These,' said Grawaine, 'are ladies for whom I 
fought in righteous quarrel while I was a living man, and 
therefore Grod hath suffered them to bring me hither to 
you, to warn you of your death ; for if thou fight with 
Mordred on the morn, ye must both be slain and most of 
the folk on both sides. I bid thee then not to fight, but 
to make a treaty for a month, for in that time shall Lan- 
celot come with all his knights, who shall rescue you and 
slay Mordred and all that hold with him.' 

Then the king waking called for his people and told 
them of his dream, and sent Sir Lucan and Sir Bedivere 
with others to Mordred, and a treaty was made that 
Mordred should have Cornwall and Kent for King Arthur's 
days, and all the land when the king should be dead. 
Then was it agreed that Arthur should meet Mordred on 
the plain. But before the king went, he warned his host 
if they should see any sword drawn, to strike in fiercely, 
for he in nowise trusted Mordred ; and Mordred gave the 
like charge to his own people. So they met and drank 
wine together, and all went well until an adder came out 
of a little heath-bush and stung a knight on the foot ; 
and when the knight felt the sting and saw the snake he 
drew his sword to slay the adder. But the hosts, seeing 
that sword drawn, blew the trumpets and shouted, and 
there was a fiercer battle than ever had been seen in any 
Christian laitd. All day they fought, and when the sun 
sank in the west there lay on the down dead an hundred 
thousand men. Then looking around him, Arthur saw 
that two knights only, Sir Lucan and Sir Bedivere, were 
left, and these were sore wounded. ' Now,' said the king, 
6 1 am come to mine end ; but I would that I knew where 
were that traitor Mordred who hath caused all this mis^ 

Q 2 



228 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

chief.' And at that moment he espied Mordred leaning 
on his sword among a great heap of dead men. ' Grive 
me my spear,' said the king to 'Sir Lncan, ' for I see the 
traitor who hath done all this wrong.' ' Let him be,' 
said Sir Lucan ; ' remember thy dream.' ' Betide me 
death, betide me life,' answered the king, ' he shall not 
escape my hands.' Then running with his spear toward 
Mordred, he cried, ' Traitor, thy death-day is come,' and 
therewith he smote him so that the spear ran out through 
his body. Then Mordred, knowing that he had his death- 
wound, thrust himself up with all his might up to the 
ring of the king's spear, and with his sword held in both 
hands he smote his father on the side of the head that 
the weapon pierced the helmet and the brain pan : and 
having so done he fell back dead. But King Arthur lay 
in a heavy swoon, and Lucan and Bedivere raised him 
up as they could, and led him betwixt them to a little 
chapel not far from the sea-side, and after a while 
they thought it best to bring him to some town. So 
they raised him up again, but Sir Lucan's strength failed 
him in the effort, and he sank upon the earth and died. 
Then as Sir Bedivere wept, the king said, ' Mourn not 
now. My time hies fast. Take therefore my good sword 
Excalibur, and throw it into yonder water, and bring me 
word again of that which thou mayest see.' But as he 
went to the water-side, the jewels gleaming on the pommel 
and haft seemed to him too goodly to be thrown away. 
So he hid Excalibur under a tree. ' What sawest thou ? ' 
said the king, when he came back. 'Nought but the 
waves driven by the wind,' answered Bedivere. ' That is 
untruly spoken,' said the king ; ' go again and do my 
bidding.' But it seemed to him still a sin to cast away 
that noble sword, and again he hid it away. 'What 
sawest thou?' said Arthur. 'Nought but the waves as 
they plashed upon the shore.' 'Nay, that is not truly 
spoken,' said the king ; ' and now go again, and on the 



Arthur and his Knights. 229 

faith of a true knight do my bidding. Who would ween 
that thou who hast been to me so loved and dear wouldst 
betray me for the riches of the sword?' Then Bedivere 
went the third time to the water-side, and binding the 
girdle about the hilt, lie threw the sword as far into the 
water as he might, and there came a hand and an arm 
above the water and caught it, and brandishing it thrice 
vanished away. So Bedivere hastened back to the king 
and told him what he had seen. ' Help me hence,' said 
Arthur, 'for I fear me I have tarried here over long.' 
So Bedivere bare him to the water-side, and when they 
reached it they saw before them a barge with many fair 
ladies in it. ' Now put me into the barge,' he said, and 
Bedivere did so softly. And there received him three 
queens, and he laid his head in one of their laps, and 
that queen said, ' Ah, dear brother, why hast thou tarried 
so long from me ? ' Then cried Bedivere, ' Ah, my lord 
Arthur, what shall become of me now that thou goest 
away and leavest me here among my enemies ? ' ' Com- 
fort thyself,' said the king, ' and do as well as thou mayest, 
for in me is no strength to trust in. And as for me, I go to 
the vale of Avilion to heal me of my grievous wound, and 
if thou never hear more of me, pray for my soul.' And 
ever the queens wept and wailed as the barge floated away. 
Now some of the old tales tell that when he could see 
it no more, Sir Bedivere went weeping into the forest, 
and, wandering all the night, came in the morning to a 
chapel and an hermitage ; and the hermit there was he 
who had been Bishop of Canterbury, and he prayed now 
by a new-made grave. And Bedivere asked whose body 
was there laid, and the hermit said, ' I cannot tell you of 
any surety, but this night, at midnight, came a number 
of ladies bearing a corpse, and offered a hundred tapers 
and a hundred bezants.' 'Then it is my lord King- 
Arthur ,' said Bedivere, ' that here lies buried,' and there- 
with he swooned away for sorrow. But when he woke, he 



230 Popular, Romances of the Middle Ages. 

would no more go from that place, and there he abode 
with the hermit, serving Grod night and day. 

And some there are who say that of the three qneens 
one was King Arthur's sister Morgan le Fay, the second 
the Queen of North Wales, and the third was the Queen 
of the Waste Lands : and with them was the Lady of the 
Lake, Nimue, who wedded Pelleas the good knight, and 
kept him to the uttermost of his days with her in great 
rest, and had done much good to King Arthur. 

And some again there are who say that Arthur is not 
dead, but that he shall come again and win the holy Cross. 
And yet others say that on his tomb were these words 
graven : — 

$?tc facet ®rrl)uritg rcj* quonttam rcr^ut futururf. 

And so the faith lived on that he who had been king long- 
ago will yet be king again. 

When the tidings were brought to the queen that King 
Arthur was slain and all his noble knights, she became a 
nun at Alinesbury, and there lived in fasting, prayers, and 
almsdeeds. 

To Lancelot also came the news that Arthur was sore 
bestead, and in all haste he gathered his hosts, and 
crossed the sea to Dover. There when he asked the 
people of the king, they told him that the king was slain, 
and Lancelot wept for the heaviest tidings that had ever 
come to him. Then, having prayed long at Grawaine's 
tombj he hastened to Alrnesbury to see the queen : and 
there, as he drew near, she swooned for sorrow and joy. 
But presently she said, ' Call yonder knight hither to me ; ' 
and when he was come, she said, before all that stood by, 
' Through this man and me has all this war been wrought, 
and through our love which we have loved together is my 
most noble lord slain. And now am I set to get my soul 
in health ; and so I pray you, by our old love, that thou 
see me again in this life no more. Gro then to thy realm, 



Arthur and his Knights. 



& 



and there take thee a wife and live with her in joy and 
bliss, and withal pray for me.' ' Nay,' answered Lance- 
lot, ' that can I never do ; but the lot which thou hast 
chosen for thyself, that will I choose for me also, and 
for thee will I pray always. That which thou do est, I 
must do, for in thee has been my earthly joy : but if I 
had found thee so minded, I had taken thee now to my 
own realm ; but since this may not be, I go my way, as 
thou hast bidden me. Wherefore, I pray you, kiss me, 
and never again more.' ' Nay,' said the queen ; and so 
they parted, but their grief was as though they had been 
stung with spears, and many times they swooned. Then 
her ladies bare Ghienevere away to her chamber, and Sir 
Lancelot rode weeping all night through the forest, until 
he came to a hermitage between high cliffs ; and there he 
found Sir Bedivere with the hermit who had been Bishop 
of Canterbury ; and when he learnt from Bedivere the tale 
of all that had happened, he threw his arms abroad and 
said, ' Alas ! who may trust this world ? ' Then he kneeled 
down and prayed, and besought the bishop that he might 
become his brother, and there he abode with Sir Bedivere. 
Meanwhile Sir Bors sought Lancelot throughout the 
land, until at last he chanced to come to the chapel, where 
he found him with the bishop and Sir Bedivere ; and he 
too prayed that he might be suffered to put on the habit 
and to tarry with them. And yet seven other knights of the 
Eound Table came thither and joined with them. So six 
years passed away, and then Lancelot took the habit of 
priesthood, and for a twelvemonth he sang mass. But as 
the year drew to its end, he saw a vision which bade him 
go to Almesbury where he should find Ghienevere dead, and 
fetch away her body that it might lie by the side of her 
lord King Arthur. Even so it came to pass : for queen 
Ghienevere died half-an-hour before Lancelot reached the 
nunnery, for she had prayed that she might not have 
power to see him again with her worldly eyes. 



232 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Then Sir Lancelot looked upon her face as she lay 
dead, and he wept not greatly but sighed. On the mor- 
row, when he had sung mass, they placed the body on a 
bier and took it away to Grlastonbury. Then was the 
mass of requiem offered : but when the coffin was put in 
the earth, Sir Lancelot swooned and lay long still, and 
the hermit came and waked him, saying, ' Thou art to 
blame, if thou displease (rod with such sorrow.' 6 Nay,' 
said Lancelot gently, < I trust I do not displease Gk>d, for 
He knows my intent. For when I remember the beauty 
and nobleness which was in her and in the king, and when 
I remember how by my fault and pride they were laid 
full low who were peerless among Christian people, my 
sorrow may never have an end.' 

From that hour the body of Sir Lancelot wasted away ; 
and after six weeks he fell sick and lay in his bed, and 
sending for the bishop, he prayed him to make him ready 
for his last journey. ' Ye need it not now,' he said, ' by 
God's grace ye shall be well amended in the morn.' fi Nay,' 
he said, ' my body is near its death, I know well. I pray 
you therefore shrive me, and let my body be borne to 
Joyous Grard.' 

In the night the bishop woke with great joy of heart, 
for in his sleep he had seen Lancelot standing before him 
with a great company of angels, who bare him up to 
heaven and carried him through the opened gates. Then 
said Sir Bors that it was but the vexing of dreams ; but 
when they went to his couch, they found him dead, and 
he lay as though he smiled. 

So, as he had desired, his body was borne to Joyous 
Grard, and laid in the fair choir, with the face bare that 
all might see him. And thither came, as the mass was 
sung, his brother Sir Ector, and when he knew that it was 
Lancelot who lay before him dead, he burst into bitter 
weeping. ' Ah, Lancelot,' he said, ' thou wast head of all 
Christian knights, never matched of earthly hand, the 



A rthur and his Knights. 233 

courtliest that ever bare shield, the truest lover, the 
firmest friend, the kindest man.' 

All his days thereafter Sir Bedivere abode in the her- 
mitage. But Sir Bors and Sir Ector with the seven other 
knights who had tarried with Bedivere and Lancelot, 
went to the Holy Land, and there, when they had done 
many battles upon the miscreants, on a Grood Friday they 
died. 



2 34 



ME E LIN. 

"When Constaunce, King of Britain, who had freed 
the people from their enemies round about, was dead, his 
eldest son, Moyne the Monk was taken from the cloister at 
Winchester to sit upon the throne. And seeing him to be 
an unwarlike prince, Angys the Dane gathered together 
an army of Danes and Saxons and sailed for Britain with 
many high-banked ships full of kings and earls. Then King 
Moyne looked that Sir Fortager, which was his father's 
steward and captain of the host, should lead the Britons 
out to fight against Angys. But Fortager feigned sickness 
and would not go out to battle. Wherefore King Moyne 
went himself, and being unskilled in fight, he was defeated 
with great slaughter ; so that Angys took many British 
towns and castles, and fortified himself therein. Now 
twelve British kings which fought under King Moyne being 
much displeased at his losing this battle, said, ' If Fortager 
had been our leader this had not been so ; ' and again, ' As 
for this Moyne, a gabbling monk, he is no king for us ; ' so 
these went to Fortager to ask his counsel ; but Fortager 
replied, 'Seek counsel of your king; it is time enough to ask 
for mine when Moyne is king no longer.' Wherefore the 
twelve went straight to King Moyne and slew him as he 
sat at meat within his hall. Then they returned and 
greeted Fortager and made him king. Yet there were 
many. who loved still the race of old King Constaunce, and 
some faithful barons took the two young princes, brothers 
of King Moyne, Aurilisbrosias and Uther-Pen dragon, and 
sent them into Brittany lest Fortager should slay them 
also. 



Merlin. 235 

Now Fortager gathered together all the British kings, and 
fought a great battle against Angys, and drave him to his 
ships, and would have killed hirn on the strand ; but Angys 
sued for peace and made a treaty with King Fortager to 
make war on him no more. So Angys sailed away with 
all the remnant of his host, and Fortager marched home 
in triumph. And while he made a feast there came to 
him the twelve kings which slew King Moyne, seeking 
reward, saying, ' King Fortager, behold we have placed 
thee on high and made thee king ; wherefore give us now 
our meed.' Fortager answered, ' Being king, in sooth I 
will show how kings do punish treason : ' and he had 
wild horses brought and tare the traitors limb from limb 
upon his castle pavement and nailed their mangled bodies 
on his walls. 

Howbeit Fortager thereby kindled against himself the 
wrath of all which helped him to the throne, and these 
rose up and joined with them which spake of bringing back 
Aurilisbrosias and Uther-Pendragon, and very few held still 
to Fortager ; so he was hunted through his kingdom, and 
ofttimes beaten sore, barely escaping with his life. Then 
he bethought to send to Angys into Denmark, and 
promised half the kingdom if he would come and help 
him in this strait. And Angys came over again with 
many men and ships, and helped Fortager to fight against 
the Britons till the people were subdued, kept down by 
force of sword and spear. So the war ceased, but peace 
never came. Fortager went in daily fear of his life from 
the Britons whom he had betrayed ; nor could he now rid 
himself of Angys whom he feared almost as much lest with 
his great army he should seize the whole kingdom ; and 
yet again he feared lest the Normans should come over and 
fight for Aurilisbrosias and Uther-Pendragon to bring them 
back to the throne of their father Constaunce. 

Then Fortager thought with himself to build a huge 
castle made of well-hewn stone and timber, — a mighty 



236 Popzilar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

fortress with a lofty tower and battlements, deep ditch and 
heavy drawbridge, — the like for strength and bigness the 
world had never seen : and he wonld build it on the bleak 
waste of Salisbury Plain, and so dwell safe among his 
enemies. 

Three thousand men began the work at break of day, 
hewers of wood and carpenters and masons and such as 
wrought in carven stone. So they began to dig out the 
foundations and lay the mighty blocks of stone well 
clamped with iron bonds ; and when night came they left 
the ponderous wall reared up breast high. Next morning, 
coming to their task, they marvelled much to find the 
great stones scattered up and down upon the ground, and 
all their work destroyed. They wrought another day 
and built the wall up as before, digging the foundations 
deeper still, and taking greater care to mix the mortar 
well and fit each stone and clamp it tight. But in the 
night the wall was overthrown, by what power none could 
tell. 

So Fortager called ten wise and learned clerks and shut 
them in a chamber open to the sky, to read the stars and 
find why no man might build up this castle wall. And 
after nine days the wise men came to the king and said, 
6 Sir, we have seen signs in the firmament how an elf-child 
has been born in Britain, knowing things past and things 
to come. Find the child and slay him on the plain, and 
mix the mortar with his blood ; so shall the wall stand 
fast.' Then Fortager sent men to journey three and three 
into all parts of the country, and seek the child. After 
wandering many days and weeks, one of these parties of 
messengers lighted on a town, where, in the market-place, 
some children at play were quarrelling in their game. ' Thou 
black elf's son,' the urchins said to one young playmate five 
years old, ' we will not play with thee, for what thou art 
we cannot tell.' The messengers hearing these words 
thought this must surely be the child they sought, but^ 



Merlin. 237 

Merlin (for it was he) did not leave them long in donbt. 
'Welcome, messengers,' said he — 'behold him whom 
you seek. Yet my blood will never make Fortager's 
castle wall stand firm for all the wise men say — blind 
fools, who grope among the stars for secrets and blunder 
past the portents at their feet.' Hearing this the men 
wondered greatly, saying, ' How wottest thou of our errand 
or of the king's intent?' Merlin answered, 'Pictures 
pass before my mind of all the things that be and shall be. 
I will go with you to Fortager and show what hinders 
building up his fortress on the plain.' So he set out with 
the messengers, they on their horses, he upon a palfrey. 

Now as they journeyed through a town they saw a man 
buy strong new shoes and clout leather wherewith to mend 
them when worn out : and Merlin laughed. ' Why do 
you laugh?' the messengers asked. He answered, ' Because 
the man will never wear the shoes.' And sure enough he fell 
dead at his wicket gate. Next day they met a bier whereon 
was a child being carried to burial, and a priest sang at 
the head, and an old man followed behind and wept ; and 
Merlin laughed again, for he said, ' Did these but know 
whose son lies there, the priest would weep and the man 
would sing : ' — and this they found true, for the lad was 
not the mourner's son but the priest's. And on the third 
day as they rode, Merlin laughed again, and being asked why, 
he answered, ' King Fortager in his palace is jealous of his 
wife's good-looking chamberlain and threatens to take his 
life ; forsooth he wots not that this good-looking wight is 
but a woman in disguise.' Then when they came to the 
palace they found it even as the child had said ; and Merlin 
revealed the truth to the king, so the chamberlain was 
spared. Fortager marvelled much at the wisdom of this 
child of five years old, and talked with him about the 
mystery of his castle wall and why it was destroyed each 
night ; and Merlin said, ' The fiends deceived your wise 
men, showing false signs among the stars; for all my 



238 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

kindred in the air are wroth with me because I am bap- 
tized into Christendom, and so they fain would trick me 
out of life. They care not for your castle wall, but only 
for my death. But send men now to dig a yard beneath 
the wall's foundation ; they shall find a swift running 
water, and, underneath, two mighty stones which keep 
two dragons down. Every night at sundown these two 
dragons wake and do battle underground, so that the earth 
quakes and trembles and the wall is shaken down.' 

Then straightway Fortager set his men to dig and find 
if this were true. And soon they came to the stream, 
which ran both deep and furiously; so they made a channel 
lined with masonry and led the water off by another way. 
And in the river-bed were two heavy slabs of stone which 
it took many men to rear up : and there beneath them 
lay the dragons. One was red as flame, with eyes that 
sparkled like the glint from off a brazen helm, his body 
a rood long and his tail very great and supple. The other 
one, milk-white and stern of look, had two fierce grisly 
heads which darted fire white as levin forks. And as the 
dragons waked from slumber, all the men fled away 
quickly in a panic, save only Merlin. Then rising from their 
dens the two monsters closed in such a deadly combat 
that the air was full of the fire which they belched forth 
from their throats ; and the very clouds lightened to the 
thunder of the battle, and the earth shook. Thus they 
fought all that long summer night with fang and claw 
and tail ; they fell and rose again and rose and fell, nor 
flagged either till the day dawned. Then the red dragon 
drave the white into a valley where for a little space he 
stood at bay, until recovering breath he made a fierce 
onset, hunting back the red dragon into the plain again, 
where, fixing him by the gullet, he tare him down and with 
his white hot flames scorched the red dragon to a heap 
of ashes on the heath. Then the white dragon flew away 
through the air. 



Merlin. . 239 

Now after this, Merlin grew in great favour with 
King Fortager, and was his counsellor in all things that 
he undertook. Moreover when the masons next began to 
build, the wall no longer fell down as before. So in due 
time they built the fortress on the plain, a mighty castle 
high and strong of timber and of stone, ramparted about 
on every hand, a fair white castle the like whereof the 
world had never seen. 

When it was done, men came to Fortager and prayed 
him ask of Merlin what the battle of the dragons should 
mean. So Fortager called Merlin, asking whether this 
strife betokened aught which should hereafter come to 
pass. But Merlin held his peace. Then waxing wroth 
King Fortager threatened to slay him. Merlin smiled in 
scorn, saying, ' You will never see my death-day ; nay, if 
you bound me fast and drew your sword to strike, you 
would only fight with air.' Then Fortager intreated him, 
and sware upon the holy books that no harm should come 
to him, whatever the interpretation of the mystery might 
be. Then said Merlin, 'Hearken to the reading of the 
portent. The red dragon so strong to fight betokens 
Fortager and all the power he has gained through killing 
Moyne the king; the white dragon with two heads, the 
rightful heirs Aurilisbrosias and Uther-Pendragon, whose 
kingdom you withhold from them. And as the white 
dragon, hunted to the valley, there regained his strength 
and drove the red dragon back to the plain, it means that 
these heirs whom you have driven to Brittany have there 
found help and succour, and even now sail hitherward 
with many thousand men, who will come and hunt you 
through the land till you are driven to your fortress on 
the plain, shut up therein, and with your wife and child 
there burnt to ashes. This is the reading of the portent.' 

Then Fortager had great sadness of heart, and prayed 
Merlin to tell him how to avoid the fate he had foretold, 
or at least how he might save his own life. But Merlin 



240 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

only answered sternly, 'What will be, will be.' And 
Fortager's anger being kindled, he started up and put 
forth his hand to seize the seer, but Merlin vanished 
suddenly from his sight. And while they sought him 
still within the palace, Merlin was far away in the cell of 
Blaise the holy hermit. There he remained long time, 
and wrote a book of prophecies of all the things to 
happen yet in Britain. 

But as for Fortager it all fell out as Merlin had fore- 
told, for Uther-Pendragon with his brother Aurilisbrosias 
landed with an army and marched to Winchester, and the 
citizens seeing the old banner of their- own British kings, 
overpowered the Danish garrison and threw the gates 
wide open for the sons of King Constaunce. And when 
Fortager and Angys came against them with a host of 
Danes and Britons, the Britons of their army would not 
fight against their brethren, but rose into revolt. So 
Aurilisbrosias and Uther-Pendragon won an easy victory 
and pursued Fortager as far as Salisbury Plain, where he 
took refuge in the castle, and the Britons threw wildfire 
upon the walls and burned him there, together with his 
wife and child, and levelled the fortress with the ground. 

But Angys fled into a citadel whither Uther-Pendragon 
followed, besieging him therein, but he could not take the 
place since it was strongly bulwarked on a hill. Then 
hearing some barons that had been with Fortager speak 
oftentimes of Merlin and his exceeding subtlety, Uther- 
Pendragon sent out men to search for him. And on a 
day these messengers being at dinner, an old beggar-man 
with a long white beard and ragged shoes, and a staff within 
his hand, came in and asked for alms. They jeered at him, 
bidding him begone. ' Wise messengers are ye,' the old 
man said, ' that seek child Merlin, for he hath often met 
you by the road to-day, and yet you knew him not. Gro 
home to Uther-Pendragon and say that Merlin waits him 
in the wood hard by ; for truly ye will never find him.' 
And as he spake these words the old man vanished suddenly. 






Merlin. 24 r 

Scarce knowing if it were a dream, the messengers 
returned to Uther-Pen dragon, who, hearing this, left 
Aurilisbrosias to maintain the siege while he went to the 
wood to seek for Merlin. And first a swineherd met 
him, next a chapman with his pack, each of whom spake 
of Merlin ; and last there came a comely swain who bade 
him still wait on, since Merlin would be sure to keep the 
tryst, but he had first some work to do. So the prince 
waited until far into the night and then he saw the swain 
again, who greeted him, saying, ' I am Merlin ; I will go 
with you to the camp.' When they got there Aurilisbro- 
sias said, 'Brother, there came a swain in the night and 
waked me, saying, " Behold Angys is come out from his 
citadel and has stolen past your sentinels, seeking to take 
your life." Then I leapt up, and seeing Angys at the 
tent door I fell on him and slew him easily, for while 
the swain stood by I seemed to have the strength of ten, 
and my sword cut through the brass and iron mail as 
though they were naught. As for the swain I missed him 
when the fight was done/ Uther-Pendragon answered, 
'Brother, the swain was Merlin, who is here with me.' 
Then was Aurilisbrosias very glad, and both the princes 
thanked Merlin for his help. In the morning, when they 
knew that their leader had been slain, the Danes and 
Saxons yielded up the citadel, asking only for their lives 
and for leave to sail away in peace to their own country. 
Thus the land was free again, and all the people took the 
elder of the brothers, Uther-Pendragon, and made him 
king in Winchester, and held a seven nights feast of 
coronation. 

After this, Merlin told the brothers that one of them 
would fall in a battle with a very great host of Northmen 
that would come to avenge the death of Angys, yet would 
he not say which of them it should be. And in a little 
time the sea about the Bristol Channel was blackened with 
a multitude of crested ships, and Danes and Saxons swarmed 

E 



242 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

upon the beach in numbers like the sand. Then Merlin 
divided the Britons into two companies, so that with one 
Uther-Pendragon might give battle from the front and 
draw them inland, whilst Aurilisbrosias with the other 
stole round between the Northmen and the sea and fought 
them in the rear. The fight was fierce and bloody before 
the Britons drove their foes to their ships. Of thirty 
thousand Danes and Saxons five thousand only went back, 
and Aurilisbrosias lay dead upon the sea-beach and with 
him fourteen thousand Britons, while on the battle- 
ground for a space three miles by two no man might walk 
without stepping upon the dead. Then Merlin made a 
tomb for Aurilisbrosias with huge stones which he brought 
from Ireland through the air by magic, and all the people 
mourned for him. 

For seven years after this Uther-Pendragon reigned and 
prospered, and conquered lands in Normandy and Brittany 
and Graul, and Merlin counselled him in all things which 
he did. Merlin also made for him the famed Pound Table 
whereat the best and bravest knights might sit in equal 
seat. One place alone was kept vacant, wherein none 
might sit till he came who should fulfil the marvel of the 
Holy Grail. 

And all came to pass as the spirit of Merlin had fore- 
seen, for, when Uther-Pendragon was dead, his son Arthur 
was chosen king when he had drawn the great sword which 
was fixed into the stone ; and Merlin aided Arthur against 
all his enemies, and saved him from many perils which 
threatened his life. But at length the time drew nigh 
when Merlin should no more sojourn among men. 

And so it came to pass that Merlin made a wondrous 
tomb in the Church of Saint Stephen at Camelot over 
twelve kings which Arthur slew. He made twelve images 
of copper bronze overlaid with gold, and a figure of King 
Arthur raised above with his sword drawn in his hand. 
Each image bare a waxen taper which burned day and 



Merlin. 243 

night. And Merlin told the king, 'By these you shall be 
shown when I pass from the world of living men. That 
day the tapers will go out and never after be re-kindled. 
For you there remains a life of glory ; the Sangreal 
shall be achieved, and you shall pass almost within its 
presence, yet not see it with your eyes, since they have 
looked too much upon the blood and dust of war to read 
the marvel of that holy thing. Fightings will never 
cease in your day, but you shall gain the victory and be 
king of Christendom, and at last die nobly in battle as a 
king should die. For me, alas ! I must.be prisoned in the 
air alive, and wait through ages for the Judge, awake 
through weary years, whilst others sleep beneath the quiet 
ground.' 

Then Arthur counselled him, since he knew his fate, to 
guard himself against it by his subtile arts. But the seer 
answered, ' That which shall be, is : unchangeable as that 
which was.' 

Now the spirits of the air, being very wroth at the dis- 
comfiture of all their plans, sought means, all through his 
life, to entrap Merlin, and snatch him from the world, but 
he being wistful of their schemes defeated them ; nor 
could they in any wise have power on him until his work 
was done. But as he waxed in years he was beguiled by 
a beautiful damsel of the Lake, called Niniame, so that he 
fell into a dotage for love of her and would follow her 
whithersoever she went. But ISmiame being passing- 
weary of his love, made sport of him, and did but endure 
him for the sake of the wonders which he showed her. 
And it befell that one day as they sat together in a wood 
at Broceliande, she intreated Merlin to teach her a certain 
powerful spell, whereby a man might be shut up for ever 
in a narrow space about the earth, walled in by air, in- 
visible to all for evermore. And this she begged with 
tears and promised him her love if he would show it her. 
And when she wearied him with asking, and beguiled him 

b2 



244 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

with many sweet words, he showed her all she asked. 
Then Mniame lulled him to sleep upon her lap, and, 
rising softly, wrought the spell in the air ; and so shut 
Merlin up for ever in a blackthorn tree within the 
lonesome wood at Broceliande, where his spirit, tangled 
in a hopeless maze among the weird black twigs, the more 
inweaves itself in trying to be free. 



245 



SIR TRISTREM. 

Roland Rise, Lord of Ermonie, was fighting for home and 
lands against Dub 5 Morgan the invader ; and the noise of 
the battle reached even to the tower where his wife, Lady 
Blanche-Flor, lay in her chamber. Many times the 
lady sent by Rohand, her faithful messenger, for tidings 
how the battle went ; many times came back the answer, 
6 The righting is furious, but neither army yields a yard of 
ground ;' and again, ' The sword of Roland Rise, your lord, 
is reddened with the blood of full three hundred of his 
foes.' Presently there came a clatter at the castle gate, 
and a faithful steed bore home his master's body, not slain 
in fight, but foully smitten by a traitor's dagger. And 
when the lady knew her lord was dead, and all the land 
was conquered, she swooned away, and then her child was 
born. She named him Tristrem ; for she said, < Thy 
welcoming is sad, my son.' Then, calling Rohand, she 
charged him to bring up the child as his own ; and 
drawing from her finger a golden ring, said, ' Keep it for 
my boy till he is grown, then let him take it to my 
brother Mark, the King of Cornwall — he will know the 
ring he gave me, and thereby that Tristrem is his sister 
Blanche-Flor's son.' Soon after that she drooped and 
died, and Rohand took the child home to his wife to 
bring up with his own babes secretly, for fear of the 
usurper. 

Duke Morgan sent commandment to all the nobles of 
Ermonie to yield up burgh and city, and come to his 
council to pay homage. Cruel and haughty was he to 
his enemies ; yet none gave brooch and ring, and shared 



246 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

rewards among his friends so freely as Duke Morgan. 
Kohand came to the council, rendering homage with his 
lips for sake of peace and Tristrem his dead master's son ; 
but his heart burned hot against the usurper all the 
fifteen years he bowed beneath his yoke. 

Now when Tristrem was grown a tall and comely youth, 
well skilled in knightly games, in books and minstrelsy, 
and practised in the customs of the chase, there came 
from Norway a merchant ship, freighted with hawks and 
treasure ; and the captain challenged anyone to play at 
chess with him, staking twenty shillings a game against a 
white hawk. Tristrem went on board and played six 
games, and won six hawks ; still they played on, for 
higher stakes each time, till he had won a hundred pounds. 
Then the captain, since he could not win the money back, 
determined to beguile Tristrem of it, and so gave orders 
to get up anchor and let the ship drift out of haven with 
the ebbing tide. Meanwhile they played and played and 
took no note of time. Presently, rising from the table, 
Tristrem looked about and saw only the gray sea and the 
fast waning shores, and wept, thinking of Eohand and his 
home ; but the mariners laughed at his distress, and, 
having bent the sail and manned the oar-banks, they 
stood for the open sea. Contrary winds and storms beset 
them ceaselessly nine weeks. Wild waves shattered 
their oars, their anchor brake, and the tempest tare their 
sail to ribands and snapped their cordage. Then the 
mariners feared and said, ' 'Tis for the boy's sake the sea 
rages at us, since we have defrauded him.' So they set 
him ashore at the first land they sighted, and paid his 
winnings, giving him, besides, food and rich presents, to 
appease the waves, and sailed away. 

It was a land of hill and forest, with black, bare, 
spray-beaten cliffs rising from out a rock-strewn sea. As 
the vessel sailed away and grew into a speck against the 
sky, Tristrem's heart began to sink for loneliness ; but 



Sir Tristrem. 247 

having kneeled upon the beach, and made his prayer to 
God, he rose more cheerfully and climbed the cliffs. A-top 
he found a pathway, and learning from two palmers that 
he was in Cornwall, promised them ten shillings to bring 
him to the king's court, where he thought perchance to 
get employment. Turning aside through a large forest 
they shortly came upon a party of hunters resting from 
the chase, whilst men brake up in quarters the stags that 
had been slain. The hunters took note of Tristrem from 
the handsome robe of blue and brown wherein the mariners 
had clothed him, and began to talk ; while he, on his part, 
mocked at their ignorance of venery and the bungling 
way they mangled the tall game. Then said the hunters, 
4 We and our fathers have always so cut up the deer, but 
yonder lies a beast unflayed ; show us a better way ; we 
are not loth to learn.' 

Tristrem thereupon took the buck, and carved it in true- 
hunting fashion; apportioning to the forester his share, 
giving the hounds their due, and feeding the raven on the 
tree. Then he took the huntsman's horn and blew the 
mort. 

Much wondering at his skill, the hunters brought him 
straightway to Castle Tintagel, to King Mark, who hearing 
of his cunning made him ruler of his hunt. And Tristrem 
sat at meat with the king, and being asked his parentage 
said he was Rohand's son of Ermonie (as he in truth 
believed). After the feast ale and mead were served in 
cups and horns, and the king's harper came and played a 
lay, whereat Tristrem found much fault, so that the 
harper grew angry and said, ' Show me the man will play 
it better.' ' Truly,' answered Tristrem, ' it would not 
otherwise be just to blame your playing.' Then taking 
the harp he played so wondrous sweet thereon that even 
the king's harper was constrained to own he never heard 
the like before, and all that sat by marvelled at his 
music. Thereupon King Mark, being greatly astonished 



248 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

and pleased, caused Tristrem to be clad in a sumptuous 
dress and appointed to have him always at court to harp 
in the king's chamber morn and night to charm away 
his care. 

Now Eohand wandered over land and sea to find his 
foster-son, and after searching through seven kingdoms 
till his garments were in tatters, he at length fell in with 
one of the same palmers which had guided Tristrem to 
King Mark, and so found his way to Tintagel. But the 
porter and the usher, deeming him a mere beggar, would 
not let him pass, until, when Eohand had given to each a 
fair ring of gold, they changed their minds, and taking 
him for at least a prince, brought him to Tristrem. Not 
knowing Eohand in his rags, Tristrem at first spake 
harshly, but finding who it was, he kneeled, and having 
asked forgiveness brought him joyfully to King Mark, 
and claimed the beggar-man as his father before all the 
nobles, who tittered and made sport of him. Then Rohand 
was taken to a bath, and his great rough beard having 
been trimmed, and his tangled white hair combed smoothly 
out in locks, Tristrem arrayed him in a knight's scarlet 
robe, fur-broidered ; and as he walked into the hall and 
took his seat beside the king at the banquet table, all 
they which before jeered at the ill-clad beggar were 
ashamed before his lordly presence. 

After the feast Eohand told the story of Tristrem's 
birth, showing Blanche-Flor's ring in token, whereat 
King Mark was exceeding glad and received Tristrem as 
his nephew. Moreover all the knights and ladies of the 
court kissed him and paid him obeisance. But when 
Tristrem heard how his father Eoland Eise had met his 
death through treachery, he prayed King Mark for leave 
to go to Ermonie to avenge his death. Though loth to 
part with him, and fearful of the enterprise, the king 
dubbed Tristrem knight, and gave him a thousand men 
and many ships, wherewith he sailed away with his foster- 



Sir Tristrem. 249 

father, and after seven days voyage they came to Eohand's 
castle in Ermonie, and garrisoned themselves there. But 
fretting to remain within the walls, Sir Tristrem said, ' I 
will disguise myself and go and speak with Morgan, for I 
cannot rest longer idle in the castle.' So he took fifteen 
knights, each bearing a boar's head for a present, and 
came to Duke Morgan as he sat at meat. Howbeit 
Eohand determined to follow him with his army, ' For,' 
thought he, ' the youth is vengeful, and may be will pro- 
voke Duke Morgan and be slain.' 

Sir Tristrem laid his present down before the Duke and 
spake thus : — 

6 Grod requite thee, Sir King, as thou hast dealt to me 
and mine.' Duke Morgan answered, ' Whether thou bless 
or curse I seek not, but thine errand ? ' 

' Eecompense,' said Tristrem, ' for my father's death 
and for my heritage of Ermonie.' 

Then Duke Morgan called him beggar's brat and smote 
him in the face with his fist, whereat Sir Tristrem drew 
his sword and all the knights at table rose up to seize 
him ; but at that moment Eohand and his men came up, 
and so began a battle which spread over all the land, for 
many barons joined to put down the usurper and restore 
the kingdom to the son of Eoland Eise. With his own 
hand Tristrem slew Duke Morgan, and then, Eohand 
helping him, he routed all the army and drave them out 
of Ermonie. So having regained his land, he bestowed it 
upon Eohand to hold in vassalage, and taking ship sailed 
back again to Cornwall. 

Now the King of England sent Moraunt, a noble knight, 
the Queen of Ireland's brother, demanding tribute of King- 
Mark, to wit, of gold and silver and of tin three hundred 
pounds by the year, and every fourth year three hundred 
children. Then up and spake Sir Tristrem how no tribute 
was due, since Cornwall was ever a free kingdom, offering 
with his body to make good the truth in single combat. 



250 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Moraunt told him that he lied, and drawing a ring 
from off his finger gave it to Sir Tristrem for a gage of 
battle. 

Next day they sailed to an island to fight ; but when 
Tristrem came to land he turned his boat adrift, saying, that 
one boat would be enough to bring home the conqueror. 
Furiously they rode together and drave their spears through 
each other's shield, the lion on Sir Tristrem's and the dragon 
on Moraunt's being pierced ; then they wheeled about and 
met again with a ringing clash of arms and armour, till 
Moraunt's horse brake his back with the shock of his 
master's spear against Tristrem's hauberk. Then as they 
fought on foot, fast and fiercely with their swords, Tris- 
trem, being sorely wounded in the thigh, grew well-nigh 
rnad with pain, and with one swift-handed heavy stroke 
cleft Moraunt's helmet to his skull, breaking the sword- 
point in his brain. So Moraunt fell dead. 

Then Sir Tristrem returned to Tintagel amid great 
welcomings, and going to the church kneeled down before 
the altar and offered up his sword in thanksgiving ; and 
King Mark appointed him heir of Cornwall to rule the 
country after him. But Moraunt's folk bare his body 
back to Ireland to the queen, with Tristrem's sword-point 
still sticking in the skull. Leeches came from far with 
salve and drink to heal the wound in Tristrem's thigh, 
but for all that they could do it festered and grew worse, 
and a canker broke out which would not be stayed, for 
Moraunt's sword was poisoned. So loathsome grew the 
wound that none would abide to be in the chamber where 
Tristrem lay, save only Grouvernayl his faithful servant ; 
for the decaying flesh fouled all the air. Forsaken of his 
friends and thus become a pest to everyone, Sir Tristrem 
entered into a little ship alone with Grouvernayl and his 
harp for company, and let the vessel drift whither it 
would. Nine weeks he lay in pain, and thought to die 
within the boat, but his harp solaced him when nothing 



Sir Tristrem. 25J 

else could ; then the wind driving the vessel into Dublin 
haven, he crawled ashore. 

It was a summer evening and the wind had ceased. 
Sea and sky scarce seemed to move, but floated in a 
smooth, still dream ; and Tristrem, resting on the beach, 
tuned his harp to a sweet melody while the whispering 
waves lapped softly on the shore. The Queen of Ireland 
and her daughter, fair Ysonde, sat at their palace window 
overlooking the sea, and hearing such tender music, came 
down to see the harper, whom they found surrounded by 
a crowd of wondering folk hushed into silence at his skill. 
When they asked his name and country Tristrem put 
himself upon his guard, for he knew the queen was sister 
to Moraunt whom he had slain. So he gave his name as 
Tramtris, a foreign merchant, who had been robbed and 
wounded sore by pirates. Then the queen, who had mar- 
vellous skill in medicine, undertook his cure, and having 
caused him to be carried to the palace, got ready a potent 
bath of herbs wherein he bathed from day to day and the 
wound began to heal. Till he regained his strength, 
Tramtris remained within the palace and became tutor 
to the beautiful Ysonde, whom he taught in minstrelsy 
and chess and poetry till she became as skilful as her 
master. But when he got well, vainly they besought the 
learned merchant Tramtris to abide in Ireland at the 
court. Not even the rare beauty of his pupil, the fair 
Ysonde, could make him stay. For Tristrem, off the 
battle-field, was a grave and quiet man, whose soul was 
in his book and harp, who had no thought nor care for 
love, to whom fair women were fair pictures and no more 
— Ysonde, perchance, the fairest — but a lay upon his harp 
was worth them all. 

So being healed, he sailed back to Cornwall, where he 
told the story of his cure, with a grim pleasure at having 
beguiled the Queen of Ireland to heal unwittingly the 
slayer of her brother ; and as he spake often of the love- 



252 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

liness and skill of fair Ysonde, how bright and beautiful 
she was, King Mark became enamoured of the picture Tris- 
trem drew. Then the barons, jealous of Tristrem's power 
with the king, persuaded Mark to send him to demand 
the princess in marriage ; thinking, when the knight 
returned to Ireland as ambassador from Cornwall and 
bearing his proper name, the queen would surely slay 
him to avenge the death of Moraunt. Tristrem, though 
he liked not the errand, was forced to go, since, as he was 
heir to the throne, the barons, if he had said nay, would 
have accused him of selfish ends in wishing the king not 
to marry. 

Wherefore he came again to Ireland in a richly laden 
vessel, and sent messengers ashore with costly presents to 
the queen and princess, craving an audience. But the 
messengers returned, saying that the people of Dublin 
were hasting from the city in panic-stricken crowds be- 
cause of a monstrous fiery dragon which had come upon 
the land and ravaged it. They told, moreover, how the 
king proclaimed the hand of fair Ysonde as the prize of 
the man who should rid the country of this fearful pest. 
Then Sir Tristrem took his spear and shield and girt 
on his sword, and being come to land, gat him to horse 
and rode till he encountered the fiery dragon. 

The good spear shattered against the monster's flinty 
hide ; the brave steed staggered and fell dead before the 
dragon's fiery breath ; but Tristrem, leaping to his feet, 
fought all day long against the scaly beast, and though the 
flames which it belched forth burnt the armour from his 
body and scorched his flesh, yet Tristrem rested not until 
he hewed its neck-bone in twain and cleft its rocky skull. 
Then having cut out the dragon's tongue he placed it in 
his hose and set out to return ; but his hot skin drew the 
poison of the tongue into his body, whereby being over- 
come with faintness, he sank down nigh the carcase anc( 
lay there senseless. Now the king's steward passing by, 



Sir Tristrem. 2 53 

thought both the monster and Sir Tristrem dead, and so 
cut off the dragon's head, and taking it to the palace 
demanded of the king his daughter. Howbeit the queen, 
doubting his tale, would first go with Ysonde to see the 
battle-field. There they found a dead steed, and pieces of 
armour partly melted, and shreds of a rich robe that had 
been torn. Ysonde said, c This is not the steward's steed 
nor yet his armour, nor his robe;' and when they came 
to a man lying on the ground and found the tongue 
within his hose, they said, 'Verily this is he that slew 
the dragon.' So kneeling at his side they gave him a 
cordial, whereon Tristrem, opening his eyes, claimed the 
victory, and offered to make good his story on the steward's 
body in single combat for the wager of his merchant ship 
and cargo. 'A merchant?' Ysonde whispered to her 
mother — 'pity he were not a knight.' But they knew 
him not. They helped Sir Tristrem to the palace and 
led him to a bath, and while the queen went to make 
ready a healing drink, Ysonde remained alone with her 
champion. She thought within herself, ' I know his face 
and his long arms and broad shoulders — surely it cannot 
be Tramtris my old tutor ! ' Then searching for something 
to confirm her thought, she picked up Tristrem's sword, 
but when she saw that the point was broken, her mind 
went off upon another track, for she knew the broken 
sword-point they had found in Moraunt's skull was care- 
fully preserved in a chest within the palace. So she ran 
and fetched the piece, when lo ! it fitted Tristrem's sword. 
Thereby being well assured that this was the slayer of her 
uncle, she called loudly for the queen, and these two 
between them would have slain Tristrem in the bath 
with his own sword, but that the king, entering at the 
moment, would first hear the truth of the matter. "Where- 
fore Tristrem pleaded that he had indeed slain the queen's 
brother, but in fair and open battle, though Moraunt had 
treacherously used a venomed sword. Then he called to 



254 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

mind how a« Tramtris he had rendered service as tutor 
to Ysonde, whilst since that time he had so highly praised 
her that he was even now come over as ambassador to 
seek her hand in marriage on behalf of Mark the King 
of Cornwall. By this being pacified .towards Tristrem, 
and learning moreover how he slew the dragon, the king 
commanded to cast the steward into prison ; but to Tris- 
trem he paid great honour, and having set him by his 
side arrayed in the richest apparel, he caused Ysonde to 
be led forth and gave her hand to him in presence of 
the court. ' Yet,' said the king, < I had far rather that 
you should wed her yourself.' ' Sire,' he answered, ' if I 
did I should be shamed for ever in this world as false to 
the promise I have made to King Mark.' So Tristrem 
made ready to depart to England with his uncle's 
bride. 

Now the Queen thought, 6 King Mark has never seen 
Ysonde, and may not care for her, nor she perchance 
for him. What if they do not love each other when 
they wed?' Wherefore she mixed a powerful love- 
potion, that the pair drinking together of the cup upon 
their marriage night should thereafter love each other so 
dearly all their lives that nothing in the world might 
ever come between those two. And this she gave to 
Brengwain, Ysonde's maid, charging her to be discreet 
and careful. 

Soon after the ship put out to sea, the wind veered 
round, blowing dead against the prow, so the mariners 
were forced to take in sail and bend to the oars to make 
headway in the teeth of wind and sea. Tristrem sat on 
the oar-bank and with his sinewy arms pulled single- 
handed a great stern-oar meant for two, till, thirsting 
at his labour, towards twilight he called for a drink. 
Brengwain went for it, but by misadventure in the dark 
she brought the cup wherein the love-potion was and gave 
ijt to Ysonde to bear to Tristrem. So he drank of it 



Sir Tristrem. 255 

unwittingly and gave it to Ysonde, and she drank also, 
and they drained it to the dregs. Then love sprang np 
within their hearts which nothing while they lived should 
ever quench again. All through that fortnight's voyage 
their time passed like a musing dream ; for they were 
drunken with the cup and knew not what they did, nor 
how the days slipped by, what sky was overhead, what 
foaming hills of sea their labouring vessel climbed, nor 
how the rowers toiled : they only knew they loved and 
ever thirsted for more love. Long did Tristrem battle 
against the new love that sprang up in his breast, sore 
tempted to put the vessel's head about and make for 
another land where he might wed Ysonde and live in 
happiness. But dearer than self or love to Tristrem was 
the honour of a knight on ambassage. He had often 
borne his life in his hand for knighthood's sake and for 
King Mark, but now after a mighty conflict he did 
more. For being come to land, he took Ysonde whom 
lie loved so dear, and with a stern, set face led her forth 
to Mark to be his bride, whilst all the man was broken 
in an agony of soul. Merrily went the marriage feast 
with games and minstrelsy ; but Tristrem's harp wailed 
piteously : his faith he had not broken but well-nigh his 
heart. 

But King Mark held lightly by the gift which 
Tristrem gave so painfully. For there came a minstrel 
earl seeking a boon before he would play, and Mark 
having pledged his kingly word to give whatsoever he 
should ask, the minstrel played his lay and claimed the 
queen for guerdon, when, rather than forfeit his oath, 
King Mark suffered him to lead away the Lady Ysonde 
— the price of a song. 

When Tristrem learnt this after he came back from 
hunting, his whole soul brake out in bitterness against 
the king. Then seizing his harp he hasted to the beach, 
and seeing the earl sail away upon the sea with the queen, 



256 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

he played a wild, sweet song which Ysonde heard afar off, 
and being taken with a great love-longing she made the 
earl pnt back, saying that she was sick and that nothing 
could comfort her but the sound of Tristrem's harp. They 
being come to shore, Sir Tristrem laid aside his harp and 
drawing his sword fought with the earl. But Ysonde, 
seeing neither got the advantage, and fearing for her 
lover, ran between their swords, craving a boon of the 
earl. When he promised to grant it she said, ' Gro, 
journey to King Arthur's court and tell Queen Gruenevere 
there are but two knights and ladies in the whole wide 
world henceforth, and these are Gruenevere and Lancelot, 
and Tristrem and Ysonde.' So being caught in his own 
trap the earl was forced to depart upon his errand. But 
Tristrem brought Ysonde to the palace and restored her 
to King Mark, saying bitterly, ' Sir King, give gleemen 
other gifts in time to come.' Yet Sir Tristrem and the 
fair Ysonde loved ever together. 

A knight there was of King Mark's court named 
Meriadok, who seeing Tristrem watch the queen and 
worship her with all his eyes whenever she passed through 
the hall to court or banquet, set himself to spy if ever 
they met or talked together ; for he thought to curry 
favour with the king. One winter evening he found that a 
man had walked across the snow towards the palace with 
sieves upon his feet to hide the tracks ; he also picked 
from a nail by the Queen's door a morsel of a green 
doublet such as Tristrem wore, and he gave it to the king. 
So Mark went to his wife and pretending to be about to 
journey to the Holy Land, asked in whose charge she 
would be left the while. Without a thought she 
answered, ' Tristrem's ; ' but Brengwain her maid having 
whispered to her to be on her guard, she added — ' that is 
because he is your kinsman ; but otherwise leave me 
rather to the care of Meriadok or any other knight.' So 
for that time the king thought no more of it ; but 



Sir Tristrem. 257 

afterward Meriadok persuaded him to send Tristrem away 
to a neighbouring city. 

There Tristrem grieved since he could no more see the 
queen ; for the love that was between them twain no tongue 
can tell, nor heart think it, nor pen write it. But at 
last bethinking him that the river of the city flowed past 
Ysonde's garden bower at Tintagel, he cut down a hazel 
branch, and having smoothed it with his knife cast it in 
the river with these words written thereon : — 6 A honey- 
suckle grew around this hazel branch and twined it 
closely in its arms ; but the hazel being cut down the 
honeysuckle withered and died, and thus made its moan : 
" Sweet friend, I cannot live without you, nor you without 
me." ' And Ysonde found the branch floating in the stream, 
and knew it was from her lover ; and after that, sometimes 
by linden chips, at other times by twigs or flowers, the 
river bore messages to her from Tristrem, so she always 
knew his mind. But Meriadok set a dwarf to watch in 
the forest for their trysting-place, and having found it, 
came and told the king. So the king went, and waiting 
till he spied the pair, crept softly up to listen to their 
discourse. But Tristrem saw the king's shadow on the 
grass, and immediately raising his voice in angry words 
he began loudly to upbraid Ysonde for setting his uncle's 
mind against him, and bitterly reproached her as the 
cause of his banishment. Ysonde replied in the same 
strain, saying she would never be satisfied till he was 
driven from the land, for the scandal he had brought on 
her fair fame ; to which Tristrem answered that he would 
gladly escape from her malice and go to Wales if she 
would only obtain for him a small bounty from the king 
•with his dismissal. On this King Mark, convinced that 
his jealousy was unfounded, came out of his hiding-place 
quite overcome with joy and tenderness, and having 
embraced the pair restored Tristrem to favour, and so far 
from consenting to his departure besought him to return 

s 



258 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

to Tintagel as high constable of the kingdom, to make 
amends for the injustice done to him. 

Three years dwelt Tristrem at the court, going to and 
fro about his business at the palace, and all that while 
he strove vainly against the passion that consumed him. 
The cup's sweet poison rested on his lips and in his heart ; 
and on her lips and in her heart ; and for their very lives 
they could not help but love. What time, the banquet 
tables being cleared, the knights and dames sate round to 
hear his lays, Sir Tristrem sang for her alone and played 
for her, and saw none other in the listening throng ; 
whilst for Ysonde Sir Tristrem was the one knight in all 
the world. And all men knew of their love and spake of 
it save the king, who would not know and would not see ; 
for he felt that Ysonde had never been his wife except in 
outward show, nor ever, spite of all her strivings, could 
belong to him : and being awed at the great love of 
Tristrem and Ysonde, he would fain have kept them near 
to him and one another, thinking thus with his love to 
keep theirs in bounds. He sorrowed for himself because 
he knew that Ysonde's love was not his, and could never 
be ; but he was a man of gentle mind, and most he sor- 
rowed for the lovers, blaming himself for wedding her ; 
and sometimes, for the pure love he bare to both, he wished 
that death might take him, and so leave them free, for 
he was greatly touched to see them strive so hard to do 
their duty and be nought to one another. 

But one day, across a flour-sprinkled floor, Meriadok 
tracked Tristrem on a visit to the queen. Then being 
discovered, Tristrem fled; but King Mark for his honour's 
sake must needs take Ysonde to Westminster to prove her 
innocence by public ordeal of red-hot iron. 

Disguised as a ragged peasant, Tristrem followed her 
and came and stood upon the Thames bank with the 
crowd. Ysonde looked round for one to bear her from the 
shore to her ship, and her eyes fell upon the peasant, and 



Sir Tristrem. 259 

knowing him for Tristrem, she said that he and no other 
should carry her. Whereupon the ragged peasant took her 
in his arms ; and when he had carried her into the midst 
of the water he kissed the queen, in sight of king and 
court and all that stood upon the shore and in the ship. 
The queen's servants would have drowned the peasant 
for the dire insult, but Ysonde pleaded for him, that 
being an uncouth man and ignorant of courtesy, perchance 
he meant no harm — so they let him go. Then being 
brought to her oath the Queen declared herself a guiltless 
woman, saying that no man save the king and that 
rough beggar which carried her across the water had 
ever kissed her lips. So when the red-hot irons were 
brought, the king would not suffer her to touch them, 
but being contented with her oath he caused her innocence 
to be proclaimed. 

Then Sir Tristrem journeyed into Wales and offered 
his services to King Triamour, who being besieged by a 
certain giant prince named Urgan, welcomed him gladly. 
This Urgan, brother to Duke Morgan whom Tristrem 
slew in Ermonie, no sooner saw his enemy than he 
challenged him to mortal combat. The giant fought 
with a twelve-foot staff which he swung with mighty 
force ; but Tristrem, nothing daunted by the crashing 
blows against his armour, with a deft stroke cut off 
Giant "Organ's right hand by the wrist, and while the 
giant fled to his castle for a cunning salve Tristrem 
picked up the bloody hand and rode off therewith to the 
city ; but Urgan galloping back overtook him on the 
city bridge, where they fought fiercely together, till the 
giant, being thrust through the body, in his pain leaped 
over the bridge-side and was drowned. Then King 
Triamour offered to give up his kingdom to Sir Tristrem, 
who nevertheless would take no gift except a beautiful 
dog named Peticrewe, a present for Ysonde. 

The fame of Tristrem's new exploit being noised abroad 



260 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

reached King Mark, who prayed him to return to Tintagel. 
So Tristrem came, and was received joyfully by Mark, 
who made him grand steward of the realm and loaded 
him with honours. 

But it was still as it had been before, and still Tristrem 
and Ysonde thirsted each for the other. Their love de- 
parted not, neither for weal nor woe, through all their 
lives. Together they were banished, after much long- 
suffering from the king. They fled, Tristrem and Ysonde, 
into a wood, where, dwelling in a rocky cavern and 
living on venison which Tristrem took in the chase, the two 
abode a twelvemonth save three weeks. 

At length King Mark came hunting to the forest, and 
peering in at a cranny of the rock saw the face of golden- 
tressed Ysonde, lit by a ray of sunshine as she slept, and 
by her side a naked sword betwixt her and Sir Tristrem. 
Then from the token of the sword deeming them yet loyal- 
to him, he stopped the cranny with his glove and waited. 
Presently Tristrem rose up and left Ysonde sleeping 
in the cave. Then King Mark spake kindly and ten- 
derly to him, and would again have been reconciled, 
and would have brought him back to Tintagel. But 
Tristrem could not bear Mark's gentle words ; and 
knowing all, dared no more go back to wrong the 
man that trusted him ; but rather, being touched by 
Mark's great faith, sought how to tear himself away from 
Ysonde's sweet love, and so repay by sacrifice the unde- 
served confidence of the king. Wherefore Tristrem held his 
peace, and went away alone among the old familiar trees 
where he and Ysonde long had walked and loved. Bitterly 
he walked and crushed the withered leaves beneath his 
heel, communing with himself until he wrenched his mind 
round into this resolve — not to go back, never to see her 
more, not to return to take one last farewell, lest all his 
strength should fail him, but to leave her sleeping and 
pass out into the world with no other keepsake than 



Sir Tristrem. 261 

Ysonde's gold ring which rested on his finger. And lest, 
in spite of him, his very feet should rise np in rebellion 
and carry him to her presence, he would cross 'the sea 
and never any more come back. So resolved, he quickened 
his pace until he ran. Each footstep seemed as cruel as 
though his heart were under foot : yet he sped on. So 
when Ysonde awoke, her knight was far away. Mark 
took her home to Tintagel ; but Tristrem with a firm set 
purpose, self-banished, took ship and came to Spain. 
Long he wandered there, a grave and silent man, com- 
muning only with his harp, and plaining on its strings 
the woe that made his .heart to bleed. And in those days 
Sir Tristrem made three lays, ' The Lay of Death,' ' The 
Song of Ysonde,' and 'The Lay of Love which dieth 
not.' Then, as a knight should do, he shut his grief 
within his heart and sought in battle for a refuge from 
his care. 

In Spain he slew three giants ; then, passing through 
Ermonie where Eohand's sons ruled as his vassals, he 
abode with them a little space and afterward came to 
Brittany. There he fought the battles of Duke Florentin 
until he rid him of his enemies, and so having gained 
favour with the duke, he was brought to the palace, where 
he dwelt for many months. 

Duke Florentin had a daughter, passing fair and gentle, 
whom men called Ysonde of the White Hand. And as 
she sat in the palace, hearing Tristrem sing with wild 
passion the ' Song of Ysonde '—Ysonde the beautiful, 
Ysonde the fair — she thought that the song was in her 
praise, and that the music which woke love within her 
own breast was meant for her. So she went to the duke 
her father and besought to be given in marriage unto 
Tristrem. Wherefore the duke spake often with Tristrem 
about his daughter, praying him to wed with her and 
promising half the kingdom as a dower. But Tristrem 
long held his peace, or made excuse that he should never 



262 Popular Refinances of the Middle Ages. 

wed, until wearying of the duke's importunity, and feeling 
something of compassion for Ysonde of the White Hand 
who seemed to pine for him as he did for Ysonde of 
Cornwall, and smitten moreover a little with her name, 
the name so dear to him, he yielded listlessly, and they 
Were wed. But as they passed out from the church, 
now man and wife, the ring, the keepsake of the Queen 
Ysonde, slipped from his finger to the pavement. Then 
his heart reproaching him with treachery, he thought on 
all she had suffered for his love, and was suffering now, 
away in Cornwall ; wherefore he led his wife to his castle 
gate, and having appointed her a retinue and maintenance, 
he turned his horse and went away and dwelt in another 
part of the land, leaving Ysonde of the White Hand a 
maiden wife. 

Near Tristrem's solitary home dwelt a savage giant, 
Beliagog, on whose lands none dared hunt ; but Tristrem 
hunted there and defied the giant to come out and fight. 
Vainly did Beliagog hurl his long barbed darts at his 
strong foeman, for Tristrem closing with him cut off his 
foot, and made him go upon his knees and beg for mercy. 
Sir Tristrem bound him, as the price of sparing his life, to 
build a lordly castle in honour of the Queen Ysonde. 
So he made Beliagog to labour at carrying great stones 
and heavy timber trunks. Then sent he to all parts for 
skilful workmen to rear the walls, and cunning carvers 
who could work in stone the image of all things that be. 
In the castle was a hall of traceried work wherein the life 
of Tristrem was portrayed in imagery. There one might 
see Ysonde and Brengwain, Mark and Meriadok, Eohand 
and Duke Morgan, Moraunt and Urgan — all so like that 
they seemed to breathe — with Tristrem harping to Ysonde, 
in court, in hall, in bower ; and everywhere was Ysonde, 
with Tristrem ever at her side. There Tristrem long dwelt, 
a lonely man, gazing upon the imagery and harping on his 
harp. 



Sir Tristrem. 263 

One clay Ysonde of the White Hand, in speaking with 
her brother Granhardin, betrayed by an unwitting word 
that her husband never came to visit her ; for, partly 
from shame and partly from a patient hope to win him 
yet, she had kept silence heretofore. Thereupon Gran- 
hardin rode angrily off to Tristrem and demanded the 
reason of his neglect. Then spake Tristrem haughtily, 
' Since your sister has betrayed the only secret that there 
was or ever could be betwixt us, I will never look upon her 
face again.' For he fretted at the empty marriage-bond 
and gladly caught at an excuse to sunder it more widely. 
His own suffering made him cruel ; so he neither knew 
nor pitied the patient love which his wife bore to him. 
Then he led Granhardin to his castle hall and showed the 
picture of Ysonde taking the cup from Brengwain's hand. 
' See,' said he, ' how fair she is ; thrice fairer than your 
sister. Fair Ysonde, who art and must be while I live 
my only love ! ' And Granhardin, seeing her beauty only 
in marble, had not another word to say, but speechless 
sat regarding the imagery, whilst Tristrem, musing, let 
his fingers stray upon the harp and played the ' Lay of 
Love which dieth not.' 

Granhardin sat as it were in a trance before the pictured 
image of Ysonde, until at last so greatly did he desire to 
gaze on her in life that he entreated Tristrem to take him 
to Cornwall so that he might see with his own eyes that 
her beauty was not overdrawn. Then Tristrem told the 
story of his love to Granhardin, who the more entreated 
him to go to Britain, till, wavering with persuasion from 
his old resolve, he sailed with Granhardin to Cornwall. 

JSTow Ysonde was in great distress and trouble that 
Canados, the king's high constable, ever since Tristrem's 
absence had importuned her with love, and now sought 
to carry her off by force of arms. Grlad was the fair 
Ysonde when Granhardin brought her Sir Tristrem's ring. 
And she and Brengwain went blithely back with him to the 



264 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

wood and told Tristrem all their strait. But Canados, 
being apprised of their meeting, came with a great army, 
and Tristrem and Granhardin finding it hopeless to do 
battle against so many, and not wishing Mark to hear of 
their arrival, fled, whilst the queen and Brengwain sought 
to escape to the palace. Canados overtook the queen at 
the palace gates, but fearing then to carry her off, came 
straight to the king and told how Tristrem was come 
back. Brengwain was very angry to think that Tristrem 
fled, nevertheless she told King Mark the reason why 
Canados was so hot against him, whereat the king being- 
enraged at the presumption of his constable banished him 
straightway from the palace. 

After this, that he might look upon Ysonde's dear face 
again, Sir Tristrem stained his cheeks and dyed his hair, 
and came to the palace dressed in a cap and bells, with a 
fool's wand in his hand, and went daily in and out as 
jester to the court. But Brengwain, who alone beside 
the queen knew him in this disguise, upbraided him con- 
tinually with his flight from before his enemies. Then 
Tristrem openly in the court threw off his jester's dress, 
and desired a tournament to be proclaimed that he might 
clear the queen. Meriadok and Canados were challen- 
gers, and Tristrem and Granhardin rode against them in 
the tourney, and after a bloody combat slew them both 
and put to rout the rest of the talebearers. 

Then Tristrem sailed again for Brittany to the castle 
which Beliagog had made for him. And Granhardin came 
and told his sister all that he had seen. Ysonde of the 
White Hand had long sought patiently to win her husband 
to her side, but when her brother told of the Belle 
Ysonde of Cornwall, hope died out from her breast and 
in its place there came a steadfast jealousy, as patient as 
her love. The colour faded from her face till that grew 
white like the fair hands wherefrom she took her name. 
Now on a day, as Tristrem rode alone in the wood, he met 



Sir Tristrem. 265 

a young knight named Tristrem like himself, who begged 
his help against a band of fifteen knights which had carried 
off his lady. Sir Tristrem rode after the party and at- 
tacked them on a lea beside the forest. His namesake 
fell in the fray ; but Tristrem conquered all those knights 
and slew them without mercy to avenge his death. 
Nevertheless after the victory he lay down on the ground 
and fainted, for a poisoned arrow had smitten him on the 
old wound which he had received in battle with Moraunt. 
Men found him senseless in the wood, and bore him, not to 
his own castle but to the castle of Ysonde of the White 
Hand, which happened to be near. (Had was she to get 
her lord, though wounded, underneath her roof. Day and 
night she watched him with a jealous tenderness, hungering 
for his love and seeking but a smile in payment of her 
care. It came not. In his pain he dreamed but of the 
Fair Ysonde, and in his wanderings raved her name. 

The wound grew worse and cankered, and the poison 
spread. Tristrem lay near death's door. No leech could 
cure his wound. Only one living soul could save his 
life, and that was she for whom alone he thought it 
worth the saving — Ysonde of Cornwall, who knew her 
mother's art. Then he called Granhardin secretly, and 
giving him Ysonde's ring to bear for a token, said, ' Take 
ship and hasten to her. Bid her come for her love's sake 
and heal me. Tell her, lest I see her not, that I have 
loved her always and her only.' Then his heart sank as 
he thought, ' Will she come, and will she be in time ? ' 
So he whispered to Granhardin again, 6 Death presses 
heavily upon me. Yet I crave to last till you come 
back. If only I could know that Ysonde came with you, 
though I lay at the very point of death and the ship were 
far away, so sweet would be the tidings I could not die 
till she were here. I pray you take two sails, one black, 
one white ; and as you voyage homeward, if Ysonde be 
with you in the vessel hoist the white sail for a sign ; if 



266 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

not, the black. So, as I lie here wearying for the ship, 
I may know the quicker if sweet Ysonde perchance has 
not forsaken me.' Then Granhardin sped away to do his 
bidding. 

But Ysonde of the White Hand had overheard every 
word that Tristrem spake to Granhardin ; and her heart 
grew very cold and pitiless. Gloomily she sat watching 
at the window for the ship to come. A little speck, far 
off upon the wide gray sea, grew nearer, and the vessel 
hove in sight, — with a glittering white sail filled full in 
the fair breeze, the rowers straining their sinewy arms 
to gain the shore in time, and a woman standing in the 
prow impatient of their utmost speed. Well knew Ysonde 
of the White Hand who it was. One little hour and 
she must give her husband, not yet hers, into another's 
arms to tend, and suffer lips more dear to press his cheek 
and soothe his pain, as hers had vainly hungered to do so 
long. 

Tristrem lay in light slumber, the breath coming fast 
and faint, but the murmurings of his wife roused him ; 
and looking on her face he knew that the vessel was in 
sight. Painfully he lifted himself upon his bed and strove 
to move where he might see, but he had not strength. 

6 What sail, what sail ? ' he cried, all hoarse and flushed, 
and trembling betwixt hope and fear. 

' Black, black ! ' she answered from her stone-cold lips. 

Then shuddering with despair unspeakable to know 
himself forsaken of Ysonde, Tristrem covered up his face 
and fell back dead. 

But the ship came to land and Ysonde, springing to 
shore, scarce heeded them which told her of her lover's 
death, but came running to the castle, and up into the 
chamber where he lay, and where his wife mourned 
loudly for him. 

' Away, woman,' cried the Fair Ysonde in a hushed, 
soft voice, with a grief too terrible for tears, — 4 away, and 



Sir Tristrem. 267 

let me weep for him, for lie is mine.' And none dared 
hinder her, for fear fell on them all for the greatness 
of her woe. Then falling on Tristrem's body she gathered 
it in her arms, crying, 4 He is mine —he loved me, he 
is mine.' 

So, like a wearied child, she sobbed herself to sleep 
upon her lover's breast. Neither did any disturb her 
more, for they knew how fast her slumber was. 

King Mark sent and fetched their bodies to Cornwall. 
A letter tied to the hilt of Tristrem's sword told the king 
the story of the love-potion and of the loves of Tristrem 
and Ysonde. Long mused he thereupon ; and he wept, 
seeing the writing of his nephew and the sword that had 
set Cornwall free ; and knowing all, King Mark forgave 
them freely. Together he laid them in a fair tomb 
within a chapel, tall, and rich in carven work ; and above 
he set a statue of the fair Ysonde, wrought skilfully in 
her very likeness as she lived. And from Sir Tristrem's 
grave there grew an eglantine which twined about the 
statue, a marvel for all men to see, and though three 
times they cut it down, it grew again, and ever wound its 
arms about the image of the fair Ysonde. 



268 



JBEV78 OF HAMTOUN. 

Sir G-uy, Earl of Hamtoun, took a young wife in his old 
age, the King of Scotland's daughter, by whom he had 
a son named Bevis. But his wife never loved him 
though he doted on her even to foolishness ; nor did 
she wed Sir Guy of her own accord, but of her father's 
will, for she had long before given her heart to Divoun, 
Emperor of Almaine. Eight years she wearied of the 
earl's caresses, praying he might die ; but life ran strong 
within the old man's veins. At last, tired of waiting 
longer for his death, she inveigled Sir G-uy to go a-hunting 
in Hare Forest by the sea, and sent secretly to Divoun to 
come with a band of men and lie in ambush to slay him 
there. 

Divoun, in his armour of proof, had pricked on before 
all his knights in Hare Forest, and so met Sir Gruy alone, 
without either shield or armour, clad only in hunting 
dress and by his side a sword. 

'Yield now, old greybeard,' said Divoun, 'and let it 
make death bitter to thee to know that I shall slay thy 
brat also, and take thy wife to be my leman.' 

6 Though I be old,' answered Sir Gruy, ' and have no 
armour and no weapon but my sword, God helping me, 
I yet can fight for wife and child.' Furiously he rode 
against Divoun and turned his spear aside, grappled the 
man by great strength from his saddle, and flung him to 
the ground ; then got off his steed, but scorned to smite 
the cowering emperor whining at his feet for pity. 
' Fool,' said Sir Gruy, ' you held an old man's strength too 
cheap.' Just then from out the brushwood came galloping 



Bevis of Hamtonn. 269 

a thousand knights to the succour of Divoun, and these 
hemmed in Sir Gruy on either hand. Like some old lion 
at bay, he shook himself and something of the old might 
came back into his limbs, and all the old courage to his 
heart. He broke their ranks on every side, and reaped 
among the men as does a reaper with his sickle ; so they 
fell and bowed before his sword like ears of corn at 
harvest-time. So he reaped on, until he cut three hun- 
dred of them down, till his arm waxed weary of the 
slaughter, and he was overcome with faintness. Then 
only dared his enemies rush in on him to bear him to 
the earth, and that same craven Emperor Divoun with 
his own hand smote off the noble white-haired head 
which never harboured an unkindly thought of knight 
or dame, nor plotted treachery. 

Then Divoun wedded with the lady of Sir Gruy, who 
brought him all the earl's possession for a dower. But 
the child Bevis, who was five years old, continually re- 
proached his mother with her wickedness, charging her 
with his father's murder, insomuch that her very life 
became burdensome. Wherefore she sent to Saber, good 
knight and vassal of Sir Gruy's, saying, 6 Take away this 
brat and send me proof that he is dead, so I may live in 
peace.' Saber promised with a heavy heart, but had 
pity on the child for old Sir Gruy's sake, who had been 
good to him ; wherefore on getting home he took a boar 
and killed it, and having sprinkled the boy's garments 
with the blood, sent them to his mother ; but Bevis he 
dressed in ragged clothes and sent him to the fields to 
tend the sheep. 

One night, while herding the sheep upon the down, 
Bevis looked out towards his father's towers and saw the 
castle lighted up and heard the sound of tabours and of 
minstrelsy, and he was angry. He said within himself, 
6 I, the earl's son, in rags keep sheep — houseless in the 
bleak night, whilst the earl's murderers make merry 



270 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

with feasting and dances.' Then, taking his shepherd's 
crook in hand, he went to the castle, forced his way past 
the porter at the gate and marched gravely up the hall 
through all the dancing and the revelry, till he came to 
the bench where sat Divoun and his mother in state. 
' What do you here, Divoun,' he cried, ' upon my lands 
and in my castle without leave ? Base murderer and 
coward ! ' Then in sight of all he smote the emperor 
thrice with his crook upon the crown. But Divoun and 
his wife feared the boy, scarce knowing if it were not in 
truth his spirit, for they believed him dead. Neither 
did any that were in the hall lay hands on him, for many 
were his father's vassals, and the rest were struck with 
wonder seeing the grave demeanour of the child. So he 
passed out and came to Saber, telling what he had done. 
But Saber was very sorry, since now it was known that 
Bevis was alive it would be no longer easy to protect him 
from his mother's wrath. And so it fell out, for Saber 
had barely time to hide the boy behind the arras when 
his mother entered the house, demanding her son, and 
threatening Saber with loss of all his possessions if he 
failed, to give him up. But Saber refused, since he 
feared for the boy's life. Then Bevis came out of his 
own accord from behind the arras, and stood before her. 
6 Mother,' said he, ' Saber must not suffer for me, he has 
done you no wrong. I am here ; do with me as you will.' 
Then she called without, and four knights entered. ' Take 
this child,' she said, ' and carry him down to the sea- 
shore — seek there for heathen merchants that sail far 
east, who will sell him for a slave among the Paynim : ' 
and these men did her bidding. 

The merchants who bought Bevis sailed to a distant 
country called Ermony, and because Bevis was a hand- 
some and stalwart lad they made him a present to the 
king. The king's name was Ermyn, and his wife Morage 
had died, leaving him a little daughter, Josian, his only 



Bevis of Hamtottn. , 271 

child ; and she was very beautiful : her hair like sunshine 
dappling on a stream, eyes tender as forget-me-nots upon 
its brink, her snow-pure skin warm with the colour 
of her quick young blood. Now King Ermyn soon came 
to love Bevis as a son, for he was a handsome boy, and 
bold and free of speech ; so he made him his page to 
have about him always in the palace ; and he was Josian's 
playmate, till as the two grew on in years she waxed 
more shy, and Bevis awkward, and confused in his boy's 
love for her ; whilst Ermyn, not ill-pleased, looked on and 
smiled at the pair. And when Bevis was fifteen years of 
age, and well grown in strength and beauty, the king 
said, ' Bevis, stay with me in Ermony ; I have no heir 
but Josian, and when you both are grown I will give her 
you to wife, and you shall rule the country after me ; only 
forsake the Grod of Christendom and bow before my lord 
Apollyon.' Then Bevis answered stoutly, 'Neither for 
gold nor silver, nor even for sweet Josian's love, will I 
forsake Christ that bought my soul so dear.' But Ermyn, 
himself a bold king, liked Bevis none the less for his 
steadfastness, so instead of flying into a rage he made 
the lad his chamberlain, and promised in due time to 
dub him knight. 

One day, as Bevis rode out with fifteen Saracens, they 
began to rebuke him for taking pleasure on a day kept 
holy by the Christians, it being Christmas Day. But 
Bevis answered that dwelling for ten years among the hea- 
then he had lost all count of time, and knew not what day 
it was. Then they reviled both him and his holy faith, 
whereon Bevis told them angrily that if he were but a 
knight and had a sword and lance he would just with their 
whole company one by one for the honour of his Grod. At 
this the Saracens set on him all at once, pricking him with 
their swords, now here, now there, in savage sport as men 
bait a bull, till Bevis, smarting with the torment of his 
many wounds, rushed on them in a fury, and breaking 



272 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

a sword from out the first man's hand, struck down the 
Saracens to right and left, cleaving some in their saddles, 
beheading some, and running others through hauberk and 
shirt of mail to the heart, until he found himself alone 
beside a heap of slain ; and fifteen stray horses ran rider- 
less back to their stables. Then Bevis rode home in 
great pain from his wounds and gat him to his chamber, 
where he lay down and swooned. 

When King Ermyn heard of the slaughter of his 
knights he was very angry, and swore that Bevis should pay 
for it with his life. But Josian spake up for him, and 
prayed her father first to hear what Bevis had to say for 
himself. So Josian sent two knights to Bevis saying, 
' Come to the palace and fear nothing, for I will make 
thy peace with the king.' Yet Bevis would not rise to 
speak with the knights. ' Away ! ' said he, ' you heathen 
dogs, before I slay you as I did your brother hounds ; and 
tell your pagan mistress I have no message for her save 
that she is a heatheness and accursed of Grod and Christian 
men.' Howbeit Josian meekly received this hard mes- 
sage, saying only to the knights, ' Gro back again and 
take me with you.' So she came to Bevis in his chamber 
and lifting up his head into her lap, kissed him on the 
lips and forehead, speaking gentle words ; and so comforted 
and solaced him that all his care fled away. Then with 
ointments which she brought she anointed his wounds so 
that the blood staunched and the pain left them, and 
afterward she brought him with her to King Ermyn. 
There, in the court Bevis showed the wounds he had 
received, and told how the affray began ; whereon King 
Ermyn prayed Josian to prepare the best chamber in the 
palace, and to nurse and tend him till he was well, for he 
said, ' I had rather lose all my treasure than such a 
doughty knight.' Now Josian being a skilful leech and 
cunning in herbs and physic, Bevis soon got well of his 
wounds, and became eager for some fresh battle. 



Bern's of Hamtoun. 273 

In the king's forest was a .-great wild boar, so terrible and 
strong he tore both men and dogs to pieces, and had slain 
many knights. But Bevis went against him with a spear 
and sword, and got the mastery of the flinty-hided swine, 
and cut off his head. He finished this battle about the 
time of evensong ; then blowing on his horn the tokening, 
he walked back through the wood alone, bearing the boar's 
head aloft on the broken truncheon of his spear ; but his 
sword he left in the swine's carcase. Now King Ermyn's 
steward, being jealous of his favour with the king, lay in 
wait for Bevis in the wood, with four and twenty knights 
and ten foresters, for he thought that if he should now kill 
Bevis his death would be accounted to the boar. But 
Bevis fought with his truncheon and the boar's head for 
shield, and quickly beat down the steward, whom he 
dragged from his horse and so gat his sword, the trustiest 
that ever man yet bare — its name, Morglay. And not 
one could stand against Bevis and Morglay, nor did he 
give them time to flee but slew them there, all four-and- 
thirty men. And Josian from her tower afar off saw the 
mighty deeds which Bevis did. 

Three years after came King Brademond the Saracen 
with a great army to demand Josian in marriage, having 
heard the fame of her beauty. King Ermyn was in a 
great strait how to defend himself, for his army was much 
smaller than Brademond's. But Josian told how Bevis 
single-handed slew the thirty-four men that came against 
him in the wood, and said, ' Make him a knight, that he 
may be my champion to defend my cause against King 
Brademond, for I wish no better man ; and fear you not 
the number of the Saracen host, for Bevis is an army in 
himself.' So King Ermyn made Bevis kneel, and having 
dubbed him knight, appointed him to bear his banner 
into battle. Then the king gave him a shield, blazoned 
with three eagles azure and five silver sables on a golden 
field. Josian embroidered him the banner he should 

T 



274 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

bear, and gave him also a hauberk of rare and curions 
work, worth many a town, and for a steed she gave him 
Arundel, the best and most faithful horse in all the world. 
With her own fair hands she armoured him and girt his 
good sword Morglay at his side. So he rode forth to lead 
King Ermyn's little host of nve-and-forty-thousand men 
to battle. 

Then as Brademond came against him, with a giant 
for his standard-bearer called Redesoun leading the way, 
Sir Bevis smote Arundel with his golden spurs, and riding 
out before all the army, came down upon this grimly 
giant like a whirlwind, drave his spear through shield, 
hauberk, and mail, and smote his great carcase dead to 
earth. Then the armies closed. King Ermyn's knights 
did valiantly, but Bevis slew more than all the rest 
together, for the Saracens went down before his sword 
Morglay like grass before the scythe — so that by nightfall 
there was cause of mourning at Damascus for three-score- 
thousand men that never would return. As for Brade- 
mond, him Bevis overthrew, but spared his life on his 
promise to do homage every year to King Ermyn and pay 
him tribute ; so gathering the remnant of his host to- 
gether, the Saracen king went home again, too thankful 
to carry back his life to sadden after Josian any more. 

Then Sir Bevis returned victorious to the palace of 
King Ermyn, who straightway commanded Josian to 
disarm her knight, clothe him in a rich robe, and wait 
on him herself at table. So they made a great feast, and 
the king set Sir Bevis on high above all the lords of his 
court. And afterward, as Josian sat by Bevis on a bench, 
he moody and silent, she said : ' Hast thou not a word for 
me, Bevis ? I have been very patient. I have waited 
for thy love till I am heart-sick, and I needs must speak. 
Xot one little word ? ! Bevis, if thou lov'st me not I 
needs must die : my heart will parch and wither in the 
drought like flowers that die for rain.' But he, though 



Bevis of Hamtoim. 



/5 



loving her as his life, yet feared to mate with one that 
served Mahound. ' Nay, Josian,' he answered bitterly, the 
while he rocked himself for very trouble of heart, ' nay, 
I have nought to speak. You have many wealthy suitors 
of your faith — there is Brademond. For me, I shall not 
wed.' ' love,' cried Josian, ' I had rather have thee to 
my spouse though thou wert poor and evil spoken of by 
all mankind, than take a mate, less rich to me, who called 
the world his own. Sure thou dost love me, Bevis ? ' But 
he locked his hands together on his knees, and, without 
looking at her, said, ' 'Fore Grod I cannot love thee, Josian.' 
Then in sore distress she fell down at his feet and wept 
bitterly ; but presently she stood up with scorn and anger 
in her tearful eyes : ' Gro, you unmannered churl,' she said, 
6 go dig the ground and clip the hedges as a churl should 
do. I was a fool to waste my love on such as you, while 
princes, emperors, and kings would gladly bend to call 
me theirs. Despised, disdained of a churl, a common 
low-born churl ! ' ' Lady,' said Bevis, very cold and quiet, 
6 1 am no churl ! My father was both earl and knight of 
Britain, and Knight of Britain is a nobler rank than 
king of a few paltry heathen here in Ermony. I will go 
to my country. There is the horse you gave me, take 
it back ; and your tawdry banner. I will have nothing 
that is yours. A churl ! a churl ! ' So he rose and left 
her, that word rankling in his mind, and rode off into 
the town. 

But when he was gone, Josian repented bitterly of 
having so becalled the fairest knight in all the land, and 
she sent Boniface, her own chamberlain, to hasten after him 
with this message ; — Josian says, ' I am to blame, and I 
repent me sore of all I said, and humbly pray a word of 
kindness from my lord.' 

But Bevis, fuming yet within his chamber, only said, 
6 There is no answer, tell your lady. Yet you may sav 
the churl has paid you wages for your errand ; ' and he 

T 2 



276 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

gave Boniface a mantle of white samite, gold-broidered ; 
a present worthy of a king. 

Thereupon Josian, very sad at heart, came herself to 
Bevis, and entered the chamber where he lay feigning 
to sleep, and fell upon his neck, and kissed him, saying, 
' love, I come myself to make my peace, for I am all to 
blame. But speak a word to me.' Then he said, ' I am 
weary, let me lie, but go thou home.' ' Nay,' answered 
Josian, ' not until thou dost forgive me,' and she wept 
upon his breast. c Bevis, for thee will I forsake my gods, 
and take thy Grod for mine, and thee for ever for my lord, 
so I may only follow thee throughout the world.' Then 
said Bevis, 'Now I can love thee without stint, dear 
Josian ; ' and he kissed her tenderly. So she departed with 
a blithe and happy heart. 

There were two knights whom Bevis had rescued from 
beneath Brademond's sword in the battle, and these 
dwelt with him in the house, his guests ; but they were 
envious of him and of his favour with the king, even as 
saith the old saw, 'Deliver a thief from the gallows, 
and he will never rest till he has hanged thee thereon.' 
80 these two thankless fellows went privily to King 
Ermyn, and falsely swore that Sir Bevis had been guilty 
of foul wrong against his daughter Josian, when she 
visited him in his chamber ; and cunningly prayed him to 
keep the matter secret for Josian's sake and her fair 
fame. King Ermyn was very wroth and very sad, yet 
said he, ' I cannot spill this traitor's blood myself, 
since he saved my life and lands and child from Brade- 
mond.' Then the two knights counselled him to write 
a letter to his vassal Brademond at Damascus, bidding 
him avenge the fault, which he would gladly do as 
the conquered rival of Sir Bevis, and to send the letter 
by the hand of Bevis himself. Wherefore the king- 
sent for Bevis, and gave him a sealed letter to King 
Brademond, charging the knight on no account to break 



Bevis of Hamtoun. 277 

the seal or give the missive into other hands than 
Brademond's. Neither would he let him take his good 
horse Arundel nor his sword Morglay, saying that it befitted 
not a peaceful messenger to go upon his errand like a 
warrior. So Bevis rode off upon a common hack, un- 
armed, and all unknowing that he bare in his breast a 
letter warranting his death. 

Now as he drew nigh Damascus, a palmer that sat 
beneath a tamarisk tree asked Bevis to partake his meal, 
and Bevis, nothing loth, consented, little witting that 
this palmer was no other than Saber's own son Terry, 
whom Saber had sent out to travel through all lands and 
find what had become of Bevis. After their meal the 
men began to talk. Terry told who he was, and how 
he sought a knight named Bevis who was sold among 
the Paynim when a child. ' For,' said he, ' my father 
Saber dwells now in a castle in the Isle of Wight, and 
every year claims this boy's heritage from Divoun, and 
fain would find Bevis to help him gain his earldom 
from the usurper.' 

But while Bevis mused whether he should reveal 
himself or no, the palmer espied the silken strings 
of a letter in Bevis's breast. ' Come,' said he, ' let me 
read your tidings, for I am a clerk, and many a man 
ere now has carried his own death-warrant for want of 
clerkship.' ' Aye,' Bevis answered, ' I was warned of 
this, lest any man should ask to read the message 
which I bear. But I have sworn that none save he 
to whom it is written shall break the seal, and I will 
answer for my promise with my life. As for this Bevis 
of whom you speak, I knew him some time since ; he went 
among the Saracens and I rather think they hanged him 
to a tree, for he has not come back. It is vain to seek 
him further, for being his friend I certainly should have 
heard of him were he alive.' Then Terry returned to his 
father in the Isle of Wight, and told him that Bevis must 



2j8 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

have died among the Paynim ; and Saber mourned much 
at the tidings. 

When Bevis came into Damascus to King Brademond's 
palace, he was well nigh dazzled with its splendour. The 
doors and pillars were of shining brass, and many bur- 
nished pinnacles and minarets pierced the blue sky. The 
windows were of bronze and set with glass, the halls inlaid 
with gold and carven work. There was a deep moat 
round the palace, and a broad high bridge across the ditch 
with sixty bells which rang whenever man or beast passed 
across, and by the bridge end, a gold and azure tower 
whereon a golden eagle with big jewelled eyes gleamed 
and sparkled night and day. So Bevis came into the 
palace where Brademond sat at a banquet with twenty 
kings, and gave the letter into his hands, charging him 
straitly to obey King Errnyn's commands. When Brade- 
mond had read it, he said to the kings which sate at meat 
with him, 6 This is Sir Bevis who made me vassal to his 
master ; rise up therefore and greet him as is seemly.' 
And when they had arisen, Brademond took Bevis by 
both hands as though to welcome him, but in truth to 
hold him fast so that he should not draw his sword, and 
then cried to the kings, ' Quick, fall on him, and get him 
down.' So before Bevis knew of their treachery, they 
bore him to the pavement, and having bound him fast 
they cast him into a loathesome dungeon deep down under- 
ground, and full of noisome reptiles. There they loaded 
him with chains, and gave him bread and water for food. 
The snakes and serpents would soon have been his death, 
but that he found a broken staff in his dungeon, where- 
with, chained as he was, he slew them. For seven years 
Bevis remained a captive in this dark and dreadful 
prison-house, till his beard grew to his feet, and he lost 
the look of human kind. 

Meanwhile, Josian, who mourned the sudden departure 
of her lover from Ermony, was told by her father that 



Bevis of Hamtoun. 279 

Bevis had returned to England to marry a wife of great 
estate. Yet did this true maid refuse to believe that Bevis 
had forsaken her, being sure in her mind that some secret 
treason was at work to keep him from her. Then came 
Ynor, King of Mombraunt, to seek her hand in marriage, 
and her father urged his suit ; but Josian hated Ynor, 
loving Bevis only in her heart. Nevertheless, after two 
years' delay, King Ermyn insisted that she should wed at 
once with Ynor, and her tears and prayers being of no avail, 
she was married to him, and the wedding feast was held in 
Ermyn's palace. Now Josian had a ring of curious make 
(her mother gave it to her, and she got it from Merlin), 
and in this ring was a certain stone of such rare virtue 
that no man might have power upon the maid which 
wore it, save she willed. King Ynor rode off with his 
bride to Mombraunt, and men led Arundel beside him by 
the bridle-rein. But as he drew near home, Ynor 
thought to mount this horse and ride him in sight of 
Josian. No sooner did Arundel find a strange rider on 
his back instead of his own dear master, than he shook 
himself and tossed his head, and with a sudden quiver at 
his flanks, set off, swift as the wind, past city, over plain, 
through wood and field and river, over dyke and fence, 
and at the last threw Ynor down, and trampled the 
life near out of him, so that for a whole year thereafter 
Ynor lay sick and like to die. But Anmdel with a 
mighty neigh of triumph cantered off to his stable at 
Mombraunt, where for five full years no man dared ap- 
proach him, he was so fierce, and they had to lower his 
corn and water down by a rope from overhead. 

Now after seven years, Sir Bevis in his dungeon on a 
day thus made his prayer aloud: '0 Heavenly King, 
which dwellest in the light, have pity on me buried here 
in this dark hole beneath the ground, knowing not night 
from day, and bring me out to see Thy sunshine once 
again, else shorten suddenly my days and let me die ' 



280 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

His jailors hearing him complain, bade him be quiet, for 
it was night, and they would sleep ; and when he would 
not, but so much the more called out upon his Grod, one 
of them let himself down by a rope into the dungeon 
with a lamp and sword, and sought to strike him. But 
Bevis lifted his two chained hands and at one blow brake 
the man's skull. Then he cried to the jailor's fellow 
above> ' Come down quickly, for this man has a fit here 
with the foul air.' So the other came down by the rope, 
and Bevis slew him also. His jailors being dead, he had 
no longer any food/and so for three days could do nothing 
but cry mightily to Grod : and on the third day, Jesus 
of his mercy brake his fetters and he stood up free, and 
joyfully gave thanks. Then climbing by the rope whereby 
the jailors had come down, Bevis reached the surface of 
the earth at midnight. He went into the castle, and the 
knights that guarded it being fast asleep, he took a spear 
and sword and coat of mail, then chose the best horse in 
the castle stable, saddled him and rode out to the castle 
gate. ' Awake ! ' he cried, to the porter, ' down with the 
drawbridge quickly, for Bevis has escaped and I am sent 
to take him.' So the sleepy porter let him pass, and 
Bevis rode five miles across the plain, till, stiff and sore 
with long captivity, he lay down on the grass to rest. 

Early in the morning Bevis was missed at Damascus, 
and a great host of knights went out to search for him. 
Foremost of all came Sir Grander on a very fleet and 
famous horse called Trinchesis, for which he had paid its 
weight in silver. He far outrode the others and came 
upon Sir Bevis alone. But after a long battle Bevis, 
weak though he was with his long fasting, overcame Sir 
Grander and having cut off his head, leaped upon Trinchesis 
just as the rest of the Saracen knights came within sight, and 
rode until he came down to a rocky strand and saw the wild 
sea breaking on the beach. There, at his wit's end, with the 
sea before him and an army of pursuers behind, Sir Bevis 



Bevis of Hamtoun. 281 

lifted up his heart to Christ. ' most sweet Jesu, Shep- 
herd of the earth, within whose fold are all Thy works, it is 
a little thing for Thee, who makest creatures go upon the 
air and in the sea with wings and fins, to help me now.' 
So saying he leapt his horse into the brine and the 
waves upbore him bravely, and Trinchesis swani the 
whole day and half the night, and at length brought 
Bevis safe to land. 

Almost starved with hunger Bevis went straight to the 
first castle he saw to ask a meal. But a giant lived 
there, brother to Sir Grander, who seeing a knight ride 
on his brother's steed Trinchesis, at once did battle with 
him, wounding Bevis on the shoulder with a javelin and 
killing Trinchesis with his club. Howbeit Sir Bevis 
brought the giant to his knees and smote his sword into 
his neck. Then, entering the castle, he appeased his 
hunger with a plentiful banquet which was in waiting for 
the dead giant, and having taken a horse from the giant's 
stable, rode off refreshed and strengthened. He soon met a 
knight from Ermony who told him all that had befallen 
Josian, how she was King Ynor's wife and Queen of Mom- 
braunt, and how Arundel had served King Ynor. ' Would 
to God,' said Bevis, ; that Josian were as true to me as 
Arundel ! ' and so rode off to Mombraunt. 

On his way, meeting a palmer he changed clothes with 
him, and gave the palmer his horse, thinking in this 
disguise more certainly to learn about Josian. There 
were many palmers about King Ynor's castle-gate, 
and Bevis being dressed as one of them, with scrip and 
wallet by his side and a crucifix at his girdle, asked what 
they did. They answered : i The queen is good to 
palmers and gives them audience and entertainment 
every day at noon, if perad venture she may learn tidings 
of a good knight called Sir Bevis of South Hamtoun by 
the Sea.' 

It was yet early in the day, and the king was gone a 



282 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

hunting ; and as Be vis walked about the castle barbican 
lie heard from a turret above the sound of weeping and 
complaint : ' Bevis, dearly loved Knight of Hamtoun, 
how long must I pine before I hear of thee, only a little 
message or a word ! Is thy Grod harder than Mahound, or 
can it be that thou art false, and must I die bewailing 
thee, my love ? ' When the queen came to the gate to 
talk with the palmers, Bevis waited till the last, and after 
the others were gone away the queen said, ' Palmer, in 
all your wanderings have you heard any speak of Bevis, a 
bold true knight who came from Hamtoun ? ' ' Yes,' an- 
swered Bevis, ' I have heard of him ; in sooth I know him 
well. He had a good and faithful horse named Arundel, 
but lost it seven years since and sent me to travel and 
seek it. I am told you have it in your stable. Let me 
see the steed.' Josian marvelled much as she looked at 
the palmer, but did not know that it was Sir Bevis ; so she 
called Boniface her chamberlain and took the palmer to 
the stable where Arundel was. But no sooner did Arundel 
hear his master's voice than he knew instantly who it was, 
and broke the seven-fold chain that bound him, tore 
down the stable with his hoofs, and leaping into the 
courtyard came and arched his neck in pride beneath his 
master's hand and neighed for very joy. Then he stood 
still, nor moved a foot while Bevis saddled him and 
bridled him and mounted on his back. Then Josian 
knew also that it was Sir Bevis, and wept for joy, crying, 
' Take not thy horse alone, clear knight, but take thy 
true and faithful love.' Bevis answered, ' Thou hast been 
five years a queen, and it is not fit that a Christian 
knight should take for wife any but an unwed maiden.' 
But Josian said, ' Love, take me with thee. Ask of all my 
maids, who have not left me since my marriage-day, if ever 
I was wife to Ynor save in name. If it be not so, brand 
me with falsehood and turn me out upon the waste to die.' 
Just then Boniface warned Sir Bevis that King Ynor 



Bevis of Hamtoun. 283 

was come back from hunting with a great retinue. So 
Boniface made Sir Bevis lead Arundel back to the stable 
and then go and place himself again at the castle gate in 
his palmer's weeds to wait for the king, and Boniface 
told him what to say. 

So when the king, riding up to his gate, saw a palmer 
there, he asked what tidings there might be from foreign 
countries. Then said the palmer, ' I have travelled far 
in Tyre and Egypt and in Sicily, and been through 
many lands. And there is peace on all hands, sire, save 
where Syrak wars with Bradwin King of Dabilent and 
presses him hard within his last redoubt, a castle on a 
cliff, the which he cannot hold for many days.' 

' Bradwin King of Dabilent is my own brother,' said 
Ynor, ' and I must go and succour him.' So he gathered 
together his army and his knights and straightway set off 
for Dabilent. 

As soon as the king was fairly gone, Bevis threw off his 
palmer's dress, and having armed himself in mail and 
girded Morglay once more at his side, mounted his good 
steed Arundel and set off at night with Josian on her 
palfrey, Boniface also going with them, to make the best 
speed they could out of Mombraunt. And by journeying 
through forests and by-ways they managed to avoid 
pursuit, until, nightfall coming on, the queen took refuge 
in a rocky cave with Boniface for her protector, whilst 
Bevis went in search of food. But this cave was a lion's 
den, and soon the lions came home and quickly over- 
matched Boniface, whom they struck down, tore to pieces, 
and devoured. Yet after this the lions came to Josian 
and laid their heads down in her lap ; for there is no ravenous 
beast will harm a maiden. Thus when Sir Bevis returned 
with some venison and saw the lions nestled against Josian 
he knew that she had spoken truth and had been true to 
him, and this made him so glad and valiant that he set 
upon the lions and cut off both their heads at one stroke 



284 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

of his sword Morglay, and so avenged the death of 
Boniface. 

Next morning as they went on their way they fell in 
with a huge and mighty giant thirty feet in height, whose 
countenance was fierce and terrible. His eyebrows were 
a foot apart, his lips hung like a mastiff's from his great 
grim mouth, his body was bristled like a boar's, and he 
bare for a club the knotty trunk of an oak-tree. And 
this giant said his name was Ascapard, and that he came 
out from Mombraunt to bring back Josian. 

Then Sir Bevis dressed his shield and rode furiously 
against the giant, and being more agile and nimble in his 
strokes wounded him many times and yet avoided all the 
giant's blows. And as Sir Bevis galloped by after driving 
his lance to the head in Ascapard's shoulder, the giant 
turned after him in the retreat with such a swinging 
stroke of his club, that, missing his aim, he was brought 
to ground with the force of it ; — so Bevis leaped off his 
horse and was about to cut off the giant's head, when 
Josian interceded for him, saying, 'Spare his life, dear 
lord Sir Bevis — for since Boniface is dead we have no 
page ; take him therefore for your squire and I will be 
bond for his faithfulness.' Then Ascapard sware homage 
and fealty to Bevis and Josian and became their squire. 

Presently the three came to the sea-coast where was a 
vessel full of Saracens who refused to take Bevis on board. 
But Ascapard waded into the water, and having turned 
them all out of the ship, carried Bevis and Josian on board 
on their horses, one under each arm, and then drew up the 
heavy sail and steered the great paddle with one hand till 
he brought them safely to the harbour of Cologne. There 
Bevis found out Bishop Florentine, brother to Saber in the 
Isle of Wight, who made great joy at his arrival, and 
christened Josian at her wish in holy church. The good 
man would have christened Ascapard likewise and had a 
wine tun brought on purpose, but the giant leaped out 



Bevis of Hamtoun. 285 

again, saying it was only deep enough to christen half of 
him, and that he was of too ungodly size ever to make a 
Christian. 

Now there was in a forest near Cologne a foul and 
fearsome dragon which killed much people. Whole com- 
panies of men that went against him were destroyed by 
the venom which this monster sweltered forth, so that it 
was said none but Saint Michael himself could contend 
against him. His front was hard as steel, eight tusks 
stood out from his mouth and he was maned like a steed. 
He was four-and-twenty feet from his shoulder to his tail, 
and his tail was sixteen feet long. His body was covered 
with scales hard as adamant, and his wings glistened like 
glass. The way in which the dragon came to Cologne was 
on this wise. Two kings fought in Cola and Calabria four- 
and-twenty years, and laid all the country waste, so that 
neither corn nor reapers were left in the land ; nor would 
they ever make peace between themselves. And when 
these died in mortal sin they were still such fierce enemies 
that the Devil feared to have them in the fiery pit ; 
so they became two fearful dragons which still ravaged 
Cola and Calabria till a holy hermit prayed both day and 
night to Christ to drive the dragons out and give the 
people peace. Then the dragons took their flight. One 
fled to Eome, but waxing sick and helpless, as he hovered 
over the city, from the prayers which go up thence, fell 
into the river, where he still abides. The other fled 
through Tuscany and Provence to Cologne. 

Then Sir Bevis determining to rid the country of this 
dreadful pest, Ascapard said he would gladly go too, and 
all the way spake of what he would do to the dragon with 
his club so soon as they should hap upon him. Yet no 
sooner did this great giant hear the dragon roar like 
thunder in his den than he trembled and shook, and ran 
away as fast as he could into Cologne. But Bevis, with 
lion-like courage, rode against the dragon alone. All 



286 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

day long and through the night the champion fought, 
and oftentimes the dragon got him down, lashed him 
with his tail, and spouted rankling venom on him, or 
with his claws tare the good knight's shield and brake his 
armour. Bevis would have died from the poison of his 
wounds, but by good fortune there was hard by a Holy 
Well, blessed by a wandering virgin saint for cure of 
mortal sickness. Therein the dragon hurled him with a 
blow of his tail, so Bevis was . made whole, and drinking 
of the water was refreshed, and assailed the dragon with 
such new vigour that he made the monster flee. But 
Bevis followed him and hacked his tail till the dragon 
turned on him again, and then he cut the apple of his 
throat in twain, whereon the dragon lay upon his side 
roaring mightily till Bevis, with three great strokes of 
Morglay, smote him to the heart. It took four-score 
blows and more to cut the dragon's head off. But Sir 
Bevis carved out the tongue, which was as much as he 
could carry on the truncheon of his spear, and set off to 
Cologne, where he found the people all at mass singing 
his dirge, for since he had been two days gone they gave 
him up for dead. 

After this, Bevis took ship for England to avenge his 
lather's death upon Divoun, Emperor of Almaine. Bishop 
Florentine gave him a hundred knights to go with him, 
whilst Josian remained at Cologne in charge of Ascapard. 
Sir Bevis, having cast anchor within a mile of South Ham- 
toun, went on shore to Divoun's castle, and gave his name. 
as Sir Grerard, a French knight, saying he had come over 
with a hundred companions in quest of service. Divoun 
said that he should be very glad of their service, since 
he had an enemy named Saber dwelling in a castle in the 
Isle of Wight, who continually annoyed him by sending 
to claim the heritage of a young scapegrace named Bevis, 
an idle spendthrift, whose inheritance he had bought, 
whilst the good-for-nothing pickthank had squandered 



Bevis of Hamtoun. 287 

the money and gone abroad. Bevis answered that he 
saw there was good cause for a quarrel, and therefore 
would willingly undertake it, provided Divoun would 
furnish his men with horses and armour, victual his ship, 
and send a hundred knights to go with him. ' Indeed,' 
said Bevis, ' we will promise not to lose sight of Saber 
till we have settled your quarrel.' Divoun readily agreed 
to these terms. 

Now the ship being stored with provisions, and the 
horses and armour taken on board, Divoun's hundred 
knights set off to embark with Bevis and his company, 
going two and two, one of Bevis's men with one of 
Divoun's. But when they reached the ship's side each 
one of Bevis's men took his fellow and cast him overboard. 
Then they sailed off merrily with their shipload of the 
enemy's goods to Saber in the Wight. Saber welcomed 
Bevis with right goodwill, and at once began to prepare 
for battle. But Bevis sent a knight to Divoun with 
this message, ' I, that called myself Gerard, am no French 
knight, but Sir Bevis, Earl of South Hamtoun, and I 
claim my lands and heritage of thee, Divoun, and will 
wreak my father's murder on thy head.' Divoun was so 
angry at these words that he snatched the great knife 
from the banquet table and flung it at the messenger — 
him it passed by, but it smote Divoun's only son through 
the body that he died. 

But while these things happened in England, Josian 
was in sore trouble at Cologne. For a certain earl Sir Milo 
plotted how he might carry her off, and since he could 
do nothing against her whilst Ascapard was by, he got 
a letter writ as though from Bevis, charging Ascapard to 
come quickly to his help, whereby the giant was beguiled 
to accompany some false messengers to a castle on an 
island far away, where they locked him in and left him. 
Then Sir Milo with a band of knights carried Josian off 
to his fortress, yet not before she had secretly sent a 



288 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

messenger to Sir Bevis to come to her aid. Howbeit, no 
sooner was Josian alone in a chamber with Sir Milo than 
she bespake him gently, and lulled him on her lap the 
while she made a slip-knot in her girdle. Therewith she 
strangled him and hanged him to the curtain rail. But 
Milo's knights, when late next day they found that the earl 
did not arise, brake down the chamber door, and seeing 
what was done, dragged Josian off into the market-place, 
tied her to a stake, and heaping faggots round about made 
a great fire, while she could only weep and pray in wan- 
hope of ever seeing her dear lord again. But suddenly 
came galloping up on Arundel that good knight Sir Bevis. 
Right blithely Arundel leapt through the fire, while 
Bevis cut the bonds that fastened his dear wife, and set 
her free. Then turning on the multitude in a fury 
that was terrible, Sir Bevis hewed them down with Mor- 
glay as a woodcutter lops the green wood, whilst Ascapard, 
having broken out from the castle and swum to shore, 
came striding up in the midst of the fray, and he with 
his club and Bevis with his sword swept all the market- 
place till not another man remained to be slain. Then 
Bevis sailed again for Wight with Ascapard and Josian. 

The Emperor of Almaine came and besieged Saber and 
Bevis in their castle in the Wight, his wife's father, the 
King of Scotland, also bringing his host to help him, with 
catapults and mangonels and arbalests. And when the 
stones and iron darts of these great engines shook the 
castle walls and bid fair to make a breach, Saber said to 
Bevis, ' We will divide our knights into companies, and 
make three sallies. I will head the first, you lead the 
second, and Ascapard shall bring out the third. Truly 
this host at present is too big to be fought with until we 
thin them down to fairer odds.' 

Then Saber rode out and bore down first Sir Maurice 
of Mountclere, and afterward made great havoc of the 
enemy, for despite his age and his white hairs he was a 



Bern's of Hamtoun. 289 

brave and valiant man. Next, Bevis with his company 
came forth, but he would fight* with none save Divoun, 
and cutting his way to where he was he bore him from 
his horse with a mighty shock, and would have smitten off 
his head with Morglay ; but the host, ten thousand strong, 
closed round him, and having dragged the emperor from 
beneath his hand, beset him and his knights so furiously 
they were hard put to it for their lives. But Ascapard, 
with his ragly club, came beating down horse and man 
on all sides, and so cleared a passage for his company 
through the host to come and rescue Bevis, and there was 
no armour that could stand against Ascapard's great tree- 
trunk. He smote the King of Scotland dead at a blow, 
and this was the only time he killed but one man at a 
stroke, for he swung his club round in a sweep full sixty 
feet and mowed down everything within it, knight and 
steed alike. Then Bevis said to his squire : ' Mark well 
the Emperor Divoun, — him that rides yonder on the white 
horse. Take him alive and I shall well reward you.' 
Thereupon Ascapard strode through the host, and lifting 
Divoun out from his saddle carried him bodily into the 
castle. Meantime Sir Bevis and Saber fought the dis- 
comfited host till they scarce left a soul alive to tell the 
tale of that defeat. After this they returned to the 
castle and threw Divoun into a cauldron of boiling pitch 
and brimstone ; and Divoun's wife, hearing of her hus- 
band's shameful death, cast herself down headlong from 
her castle tower and brake her neck. 

Then Sir Bevis went to Hamtoun and took possession 
of his heritage, and made a great feast in Hamtoun 
Castle, whereat all the lords of the shire came and did 
him homage as the rightful Earl of Hamtoun, their true 
ruler. And from that time he displayed upon his shield 
the three roses of Hamtoun in place of the five silver 
sables. After this Sir Bevis went to London to Kino; 
Edgar and paid his fealty. And Edgar made him marshal 

u 



290 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

of his army. And about Whitsuntide when a great race 
was run before the king for a thousand pieces of gold, 
Sir Bevis came on Arundel, late to the course, long after 
the rest had started ; but he shook the bridle loose, saying, 
6 Speed thee, Arundel, and win the prize, and I will rear 
a lordly castle to thy praise,' and Arundel, for his master's 
sake, urged to the utmost, put forth all his strength, and 
sped past all the rest and won the race. With the trea- 
sure Bevis, in honour of his noble steed, built Arundel 
Castle, which stands unto this day. But the king's son 
coveted the horse, and after vainly teasing Bevis to give 
it him, came one night to the stable Where Arundel was, 
to steal him aWay; but Arundel with one hind hoof 
dashed out his brains. Wherefore, for this, King Edgar 
would have had the horse slain, only Sir Bevis, rather 
than lose his faithful steed, chose to leave the country ; 
so having made Terry, Saber's son, his squire, he again 
took ship with Josian and sailed for Ermony. 

Now Ascapard was a poor man and gat but little 
reward of Bevis. He was also jealous that Terry should 
be made squire in his stead. Wherefore when Bevis was 
gone he set off to King Ynor at Mombraunt, and said, 
* Make me a prince and ruler in your country, and I will 
slay Bevis and deliver Josian into your hand.' Ynor, 
very glad to think of getting back his queen again, 
agreed joyfully, and gave him forty knights clad in iron 
mail ; for the giant said plainly that he would not under- 
take the matter by himself. 

Now Sir Bevis and Terry rode with Josian through a 
lonely forest in Normandy ; and in this forest, while they 
were gone for a little while, she gave birth to two boys, 
and almost directly afterwards Ascapard and his forty 
Saracens came and carried her off. Bevis on his return 
was so much overcome by grief when he could not find 
his wife, that he swooned away. On his recovery he took 
the two babes, and dividing with his sword Josian's ermine 



Bevis of Hamtoun. 291 

mantle -whereon they lay, wrapped them in it, and rode 
on till he met a forester, to whom he gave ten marks to 
bring up one of the children and call it Gary. Shortly 
meeting a fisher, he gave him the other child and ten 
marks, after christening the boy Miles over against the 
church stile, before the handle of his sword for crucifix. 

But Josian was carried off to King Ynor, who, when he 
saw her, marvelled greatly, saying, ' This is not Josian 
that was my queen ' — for she had eaten secretly of a cer- 
tain herb whereby her countenance was changed into 
loathliness. So he said, 'Take her away, for I cannot 
abide so foul a visaged dame.' And he made Ascapard 
take her to a castle on a plain five miles away, where 
Josian dwelt for half-a-year alone with Ascapard for 
warder. 

Now Saber had a dream in his castle in the Wight. 
He dreamed he saw Sir Bevis wounded to the heart, and 
waking, asked his wife to read the dream. Then said 
she, ' How should Sir Bevis seem stricken to the heart 
save he had lost his wife or child?' Saber therefore 
chose twelve trusty and valiant men, and having armed 
them well in mail of proof and clad them over all in 
palmer's weeds, took ship and sailed through the Greek 
Sea till he came by good fortune to the very land where 
Josian was held in captivity by Ascapard. And the lady 
looked out from her tower and besought his help. So 
Saber called the giant out to fight. Now Saber and his 
men, having seen Ascapard in battle, knew well how to 
assail him. So they ran close in upon the giant where 
he could not use his club upon them, and hewed off his 
feet until they brought him down and slew him with 
their swords. Nevertheless Ascapard, after he was on the 
ground, slew all the men that went with Saber, so that 
he alone escaped. Thus Saber brought Josian out of her 
captivity in the castle, and she made a cunning ointment 
which brought back her beauty, and having dressed her- 

tj2 



292 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

self in poor attire, set out on foot with Saber to seek 
Bevis. But Saber, being old, fell sick in Greece, and for 
a year lay ill upon bis bed, whilst Josian tended him and 
earned the food for both by singing and playing on a 
cittern, for she was skilled in minstrelsy. 

Sir Bevis meantime came to a country where a great 
tournament was held for the hand of a princess, the king's 
daughter, and this he won for knighthood's sake, and after 
him Terry was the most valiant knight. But the princess 
fell in love with Bevis, until, hearing he was already wed, 
she prayed him to be her bachelor for seven years, then 
if his wife returned she would wed Terry ; if not, she 
would take Bevis for her husband. So Bevis dwelt in a 
castle in that country and fought the battles of the king, 
and Terry was made steward of the realm. 

After seven years' wanderings Saber and Josian came 
into the land where Bevis was ; and footsore and weary 
Saber left her at an inn while he went to the castle to 
beg a bit of bread. Terry came down to the castle gate 
but did not know his father in his beggar's dress, all 
travel-worn, and very greatly aged by sickness. But Saber 
knew his son. ' (rood steward/ said he, 6 for love of the 
dear Kood, give me a little piece of bread.' 6 Aye, palmer,' 
answered Terry, 'that I will, for my dear father's sake, 
who may be wandering as you are now. I know not 
where he is. Pray Grod be kind to him.' ' Son,' Saber 
said, ' thy father it is that blesses thee. Son Terry, my 
dear son.' Then Terry knew him, and reverently kissed 
his long white beard, and brought him in and served him 
joyfully and humbly at the table. As for Josian, she was 
clothed in fair apparel, and brought to Sir Bevis decked 
as a queen ; nor were ever lovers more glad to be wed than 
were these two to meet again. And while they smiled and 
wept for joy together, the fisher and the forester came in 
and brought her children, hale, comely boys, who rode in 
mimic justs to show their mother how strong they were. 



Bevis of Hamtoun. 293 

So the princess, the lady of the tournament which Bevis 
won, wedded with Terry. And all made great joy, for it 
would be hard to say which was the happier, Terry with 
his fair new bride and his father restored to him, or Bevis 
at finding his dearly-loved Josian again ; yet do they say, 
that love grows riper after age and storm, like old wine 
that has passed the seas. 

Soon afterwards Sir Bevis went with his retinue of 
knights to Ermony. King Ynor, hearing this, gathered 
together the greatest army he could muster, and came, 
against him to demand Josian his queen. But after a 
parley they agreed to determine the matter by single 
combat, the victor to be king both of Ermony and Mom- 
braunt. 

They fought on an island in view of both armies, where 
none could interfere. From prime till undern the air 
resounded with the ringing of their armour and the clash- 
ing of their swords. At high noon Ynor hewed off crest 
and circle and the visor bars from Sir Bevis's helmet ; 
furious whereat Sir Bevis cleft King Ynor's shoulder half 
a foot through mail and breast-plate, forcing him to 
ground upon his knee ; then, mad to see his blood upon 
the sword blade of his enemy, Ynor started up, and rush- 
ing on Bevis like a lion, clave his shield in two and raised 
his right arm for a fearful stroke which Bevis, shieldless, 
could not ward ; but he, wielding Morglay in both hands, 
lopped off the arm before it could deal the blow, so it fell 
helpless to the earth, with fingers still clenched on the 
weapon. Then Bevis threw him to the ground, unlaced 
the Paynim's helm and smote his head off. The Saracens, 
seeing their champion fallen, took flight ; but Bevis, 
with his sons Sir Miles and Gruy, and Saber and Terry 
with King Ermyn's army, pursued and slew great num- 
bers in the way, until they came to Mombraunt. There 
Sir Bevis was crowned king and Josian for the second 
time made queen of that city. 



294 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

But there came messengers from England with tidings 
how King Edgar had taken the estates both of Bevis and 
Saber, and bestowed them on Sir Bryant of Cornwall, his 
steward. Wherefore, Bevis sailed for Hamtoun with a 
great array of knights and men-at-arms, and marched to 
Potenhithe, where he encamped. Then with twelve 
knights he came to the king at Westminster and asked 
that his estates might be restored. King Edgar, who 
dreaded nothing so much as war, consented ; so Bevis 
went away with his knights to a tavern in London City 
to refresh himself. Yet no sooner was he gone than the 
steward, to whom the lands and castles had been given, re- 
minded the king how Bevis was an outlaw, and how his 
horse Arundel had killed the prince. So it befell that 
proclamation was made in London to close the city gates, 
and stretch chains across all narrow streets, while all good 
citizens were called upon to arm themselves and take the 
outlaw alive or dead. 

Now when Sir Bevis in the tavern found himself beset, he 
armed himself, girt on Morglay, and having mounted 
Arundel, rode out with his knights into the crowd, and 
first seeing Sir Bryant the king's steward urging on the 
people, he spurred against him, and with his lance bore 
down the backbiter dead upon the roadway. But the 
street was narrow, and Bevis, being beleaguered by a very 
great armed multitude, turned his horse down (rod's 
Lane, thinking to come out in Chepe, where he would 
have more space to fight. Now this lane was so narrow 
that he could not turn his horse therein, and when he 
came down to the end he found huge chains across which 
barred his way, whilst all the crowd swarmed in and 
quickly chained up the other end, so there was no escape. 
Thus were they caught in a trap, and the people with their 
swords, and stones, and bludgeons, slew all his twelve 
knights ; and Bevis was hard put to it to hold his life 
but for a short space longer, since he could not turn, nor 



Bevis of Hqmtoun. 295 

scarcely swing his sword within that narrow lane. Almost 
despairing, he prayed Christ to bring him out of this great 
peril so he might see his wife and children once again. 
Then with Morglay he smote the chains and they fell in 
pieces on the pavement, so he came out in Chepe, the 
people shouting after him, 6 Yield thee, Sir Bevis, yield 
thee, for we shall quickly have thee down.' But he 
answered proudly, ' Yea, I yield to Grod that sits above 
in Trinity, but to none else.' 

New crowds poured into Chepe on all hands, and with 
pikes and javelins assailed this valiant knight through 
half the day ; yet none could take him, for Arundel fought 
with a leal heart, and cleared the ground for forty foot to 
front and rear with his hoofs, the while his master cut 
down men on either hand far quicker than a parson and 
his clerk could shrive. By eventide he slew five thou- 
sand of the folk, until his arm waxed weary and he faint 
for need of food and parched with thirst. Then came a 
Lombard with a heavy mansel and smote him on the helm 
a blow that nearly stunned him, so that Sir Bevis leaned 
forward on his saddle-bow and seemed like to fall. Just 
then a cry was made, for lo, Sir Gruy and Sir Miles with all 
their army, having burned the city gates, came riding into 
Chepe. Sir Gruy cut down the Lombard, whilst Sir Bevis, 
gaining fresh nerve and vigour from this welcome succour, 
turned again and headed his army in battle against the 
Londoners, fighting far on into the night, until the 
Thames ran red with blood past Westminster, and sixty 
thousand Londoners were slain. Thus Sir Bevis took the 
city, and brought Josian to the Leden Hall, where they 
held feasting fourteen nights, keeping open court for all 
folk that would come. 

Then King Edgar, earnestly desiring peace, made a 
treaty with Sir Bevis, and gave his only daughter to Sir 
Miles to be his wife ; and these were wed at Nottingham 
amid great rejoicing as at the crowning of a king. 



296 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Sir Bevis then gave his earldom of South Hamtoun to 
Saber, and came by ship with Gruy and Terry to Ermony. 
King Ermyn, being very old and near to death, took the 
crown from off his head and placed it on Sir Gary's. So 
leaving his son King of Ermony, Sir Bevis made Terry 
King of Ambersh, and then returned with Josian his queen 
to his own kingdom of Mombraunt. There they dwelt 
together in love for three-and- thirty years, and made all 
the land Christian. 

Now at the last Josian the queen fell sick of a mortal 
sickness, and knowing her end was near, she sent for Sir 
Gruy to bid him farewell. And while she talked alone 
with her son, Bevis walked sorrowing about the castle till 
he came to the stable where Arundel was kept. There 
going in, he stroked and smoothed his old and faithful 
steed, and Arundel arched himself for the last time be- 
neath his master's hand, then looked up in his face and 
fell down dead. Then with a heavy heart Sir Bevis came 
back again to the chamber where Josian lay a-dying, and 
falling down beside her, took her in his arms and held her 
to him till she died ; and before her body had grown cold, 
his soul went to her. So they passed together from the 
noise of the world and were nevermore divided. 

But Sir Gruy would not in anywise suffer them to be 
buried in the earth ; wherefore he reared a noble church 
to Saint Lawrence, and made therein a fair chapel of 
white marble adorned with heraldry and carven work, all 
pictured with great deeds of knighthood for the Holy Cross 
and faithful love of wedded folk. There he made the 
bier, of marble and of gold, beneath a golden canopy, 
high-cornered, wrought with curious device, and laid them 
there : and built withal a house where pious monks sang 
masses morn and eve for the rest of good Sir Bevis and 
fair Josian. God's pity on their souls ! Aye, and also upon 
Arundel, if indeed it be not unlawful to pray for a horse 
more faithful than most men, and truer than most friends. 



297 



GUY OF WARWICK. 

Of all the nobles of Britain none was so strong as Kohand, 
Earl of Warwick, Kockingkam, and Oxford. He made 
just laws, and made them be obeyed ; nor king nor baron 
in the land could buy his favour with fine words or gold, 
or shield the wrong-doer from his punishment. Passing 
fair was Felice, his daughter, like some stately marble 
shaft of perfect mould ; haughty was she as the great ger- 
falcon which spurns the earth and towers up into the noon 
to look the burning sun in the face. Wise masters, hoar 
with learning, came out from Thoulouse to teach her the 
seven arts and sciences, until there was not her like for 
wisdom anywhere. 

Earl Kohand had a favourite page, named Gruy, son of 
his just and upright steward, Segard of Wallingford ; a 
brave and fearless youth, of strong and well-knit frame, 
whom Heraud of Ardenne, his tutor, taught betimes to 
just with lance and sword, and how to hunt with hawk and 
hound by wood and river side. 

It was the feast of Pentecost, when by old custom every 
maiden chose her love and every knight his leman. Gruy, 
clad in a new silken dress, being made cup-bearer at the 
banquet table, saw for the first time the beautiful Felice, 
as, kneeling, he offered the golden ewer and basin and 
damask napkin to wash her finger-tips before the banquet. 
Thenceforward he became so love-stricken with her beauty 
that he heard not the music of the glee-men, saw neither 
games nor tourneys, but dured in a dream, liked one 
crazed, all through the fourteen days festival. Knights 
and fair dames praised his handsome figure and well- 



298 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

grown sinewy limbs; lie heeded not — but once Felice 
gave him a courteous word as he offered her the wine- 
cup ; he blushed and stammered and spilled the wine, 
and was rebuked for awkwardness. 

The feast being over, Gruy went away to his chamber, 
and there fell into a great love-sickness. Hopeless it 
seemed for a vassal to love one so far above him as his 
sovereign's daughter ; so he gave himself up to despair, 
and his disease grew so sore that the most skilful leeches 
of Earl Eohand's court were unable to cure his complaint. 
In vain they let him of blood or gave him salve or potion. 
6 There is no medicine of any avail,' the leeches said. Gruy 
murmured, ' Felice : if one might find and bring Felice 
to me, I yet migkt live.' ' Felice ? ' the leeches said 
among themselves, and shook their heads, 'it is not in the 
herbal. Felice ? Felix ? No, there is no plant of that 
name.' 

4 No herb is Felice,' sighing answered Gruy, 4 but a 
flower — the fairest flower that grows.' 

4 He is light-headed,' they said. ' The flower Felice ? 
He seeks perchance the flower of happiness, growing in 
the garden of the blessed, away in Paradise. He is surely 
near his end.' 

4 It is truly Paradise where Felice is,' Gruy answered. 

4 You hear ? You see ? ' the leeches whispered one to 
another. 4 Come, let us go ; for we can be of no more 
good.' 

Night came, and being left alone Guy thought to rise 
up from his bed and drag himself into the presence of his 
mistress, there to die at her feet. So weak was he be- 
come, he scarce could stand, but fainted many times upon 
the way. 

Now Felice had heard many whisperings how Gruy was 
dying for love of her, since her handmaidens had compas- 
sion on the youth, and sought to turn her heart towards 
him ; but Felice was in no mind to have a page for a 



Guy of Warwick. 299 

lover. Howbeit on this very night she had a dream, 
wherein being straitly enjoined to entreat the youth with 
kindness as the only way to save a life which would here- 
after be of great service to the world, she arose and came 
to a bower in the garden where Gruy lay swooning on the 
floor. Felice would not stoop to help him, but her maids 
having restored him to his senses, Gruy fell at her feet and 
poured out all his love before her. Never a word an- 
swered Felice, but stood calmly regarding him with 
haughty coldness. Then said one of her maids, 6 lady ! 
were I the richest king's daughter in the land, I could not 
turn away from love so strong and true.' Felice rebuked 
her, saying, ' Could not ? Silly child, see that your soft 
heart do not prove your shame.' So with a tingling cheek 
the maid withdrew abashed. Then said Felice to Gruy, 
6 Why kneel there weeping like a girl ? Gret up, and 
show if there is the making of a man in you. Hear what 
I have to say. The swan mates not with the swallow, and 
I will never wed beneath me. Prove that your love is 
not presumption. Show yourself my peer. For I could 
love a brave and valiant knight before whose spear men 
bowed as to a king, nor would I ask his parentage, prouder 
far to know that my children took their nobleness from 
a self-made nobleman. But a weeping, love-sick page ! 
No ! Gro, fight and battle — show me something that you 
do that I can love. Meantime I look for such a lover, 
and I care not if his name be Gruy the page.' 

Then Gruy took heart and said, ' Lady, I ask no better 
boon than to have you for witness of what love for you 
can do.' 

Felice answered, 'Deeds, not words. Be strong and 
valiant. I will watch and I will wait.' 

Then Gruy took leave of his mistress and in the course 
of a few days regained his health, to the surprise of all the 
court, but more especially of the leeches who had given 
him over for dead, and coming to Earl Bohand, in- 



300 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

treated Mm to make him a knight. To this Earl Kohand 
having agreed, Gary was knighted at the next feast of 
Holy Trinity with a dubbing worthy a king's son ; and 
they brought him rich armour, and a good sword and 
spear and shield, and a noble steed with costly trappings, 
together with rich silken cloaks and mantles fur-trimmed, 
and of great price. Then bidding farewell to Segard his 
father, Sir Gruy left Warwick with Heraud his tutor, and 
Sir Thorold and Sir Urry for company, and having reached 
the nearest seaport, set sail for Normandy in search of 
adventures wherein to prove his valour. 

They came to Rouen, and whilst they tarried at an 
inn a tournament was proclaimed in honour of the fair 
Blancheflor, daughter to Eegnier, Emperor of Grermany, 
and the prize was the hand of the princess, a white horse, 
two white hounds, and a white falcon. So Sir Guy and his 
companions rode into the lists, where was a great company 
of proven knights and champions. Three days they tour- 
neyed, but none could withstand Sir Guy's strong arm. 
He overthrew Otho Duke of Pavia, Sir G-arie the Em- 
peror's son, Reignier Duke of Sessoyne, the Duke of 
Lowayne, and many more, till not a man was left who 
dared encounter him ; and being master of the field, he was 
adjudged the prize. The horse and hounds and falcon he 
sent by two messengers to Felice in England as trophies 
of his valour. Then he knelt before the beautiful princess 
Blancheflor and said, ' Lady, I battle in honour of my 
mistress, the peerless Felice, and am her servant,' where- 
at the emperor and his daughter, admiring his con- 
stancy, loaded him with rich presents and allowed him 
to depart. 

Sir G-uy then travelled through Spain, Lombardy, and 
Almayne, into far lands ; and wheresoever a tournament 
was held, there he went and justed, coming out victor from 
them all ; till the fame of his exploits spread over Chris- 
tendom. So a year passed, and he returned to England 



Guy of Warwick. 301 

unconquered, and renowned as the most valiant knight of 
his time. A while he sojourned in London with King 
Athelstan, who rejoiced to do him honour : then he 
came to Warwick, where he received from Earl Eohand 
a princely welcome. Then Sir Gruy hastened to Felice. 

' Fair mistress,' said he, ' have I now won your love ? 
You have heard my deeds, how I have travelled all through 
Christendom, and have yet found no man stand against 
my spear. I have been faithful in my love, Felice, as 
well as strong in fight. I might have wedded with the 
best. Kings' daughters and princesses were prizes in the 
tournaments ; but I had no mind for any prize but thee. 
Say, is it mine, sweet mistress ?' 

Then Felice kissed her knight and answered, 'Eight 
nobly have you won my love and worship, brave Sir Gruy. 
You are more than my peer ; you are become my sove- 
reign ; and my love pays willing homage to its lord. But 
for this same cause I will not wed you yet. I will not 
have men point at me and say, " There is a woman who, 
for selfish love's sake, wedded the knight of most renown 
in Christendom ere yet he did his bravest deeds — drew 
him from his level to her own — made him lay by his 
sword and spear for the slothful pleasures of a wedded life, 
and dwarfed a brave man down to a soft gentleman.' 
Xay, dear one, I can wait, and very proudly, knowing my- 
self your chiefest prize. But seek not to possess the prize 
too soon, lest your strivings for renown, being aimless, 
should was feeble. It is because I love you that I hold 
your fame far dearer than my love. Gro rather forth again, 
travel through heathen lands, defend the weak against the 
strong ; go, battle for the right, show yourself the match- 
less knight you are ; and Grod and my love go with thee.' 

Then Sir Gruy gat him ready for his new quest. Earl 
Eohand tried to persuade him to remain at home, as like- 
wise did his father Segard ; and his mother, weeping, 
prayed him stay. She said, 'Another year it may not fare 



302 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

so well with thee, my son. Leave well alone. Felice is 
cold and proud and cares not for thee, else she would not 
risk thy life again. What is it to her ? If thou wert 
slain she would get another lover; we have no more 
sons.' 

Yet would not Sir Guy be turned from his purpose, but 
embarked with his companions, Sir Heraud, Sir Thorold, 
and Sir Urry, for Flanders. Thence he rode through 
Spain, Germany, and Lombardy, and bore away the prize 
at every tournament. But coming into Italy, he got a 
bad Wound justing at Bene ven turn, which greatly weakened 
him. 

Duke Otho of Pavia, whom Sir Guy overthrew in his first 
tournament at Eouen, thought now to be avenged on him. 
So he set a chosen knight, Earl Lombard, with fifteen other 
knights to lie in ambush in a wood and slay Sir Guy ; 
and as Sir Guy, with his three companions, came ambling 
slowly through the wood, he smarting and well-nigh faint 
with his wound, the men in ambush broke out from their 
concealment and called on him to yield. The danger 
made him forget his pain, and straightway he dressed 
his shield and spurred among them. 

Sir Heraud, Sir Thorold, and Sir Urry killed the three 
first knights they rode against. Then Earl Lombard slew 
Sir Urry ; and at the same time Hugo, nephew to Duke 
Otho, laid Sir Thorold dead at his horse's feet. Then only 
Sir Guy and Sir Heraud being left to fight, Sir Guy 
attacked Earl Lombard and smote him to the heart, 
whilst Sir Heraud chased Hugo, fleeing like a hound, and 
clrave his spear throughout his body. Thus were Sir Urry 
and Sir Thorold avenged. But one of the felon knights, 
called Sir Gunter, smote Sir Heraud a mighty stroke 
when he was off his guard, and hewed his shield and coat 
of mail in pieces, and Sir Heraud fell to the earth covered 
with blood and lay as dead. 

Thereupon Sir Guy's anger waxed furious at his 



Guy of Warwick. 303 

master's death ; and he spurred his horse so that fire rose 
from under its feet, and with one blow of his sword cleft 
Sir Grunter from his helmet to the pummel of his saddle. 
As for the other knights he slew them all except Sir Grui- 
chard, who fled on his swift steed to Pavia, and got back 
to Duke Otho. 

Heavily Sir Gruy grieved for the loss of his three friends, 
but most of all for his dear master Sir Heraud. lie 
sought about the wood until he found a hermit. To him 
he gave a good steed, charging him to bury the bodies of 
Sir Urry and Sir Thorold. From Sir Heraud's body he 
would not part. Lifting the old knight in his arms, he 
laid him across his horse, and led the steed by the bridle- 
rein till they came to an abbey, where he left the body 
with the abbot, promising rich presents in return for 
giving it sumptuous burial with masses and chants. But 
Sir Gruy departed and hid himself in a hermit's cave 
away from the malice of Duke Otho, until his wound 
should be healed. 

Now there was in the abbey whither Heraud's body was 
taken, a monk well skilled in leech-crafu, who knew the 
virtues of all manner 01* grasses and herbs. And this 
monk, finding by his craft that life still flickered in the 
body, nursed and tended it ; and after a long while Sir 
Heraud was well enough to travel. Disguised as a palmer 
he came into Burgundy, and there, to his great joy, found 
Sir Gruy, who had come thither meaning to take his way 
back to England. But they lingered still, till Heraud 
should grow stronger, and so it fell out that they came to 
St. Omers. There they heard how the Emperor Regnier 
had come up against Segwin, Duke of Lavayne, laid waste 
his land, and besieged him in his strong city Seysone, 
because he had slain Sadoc, the emperor's cousin, in 
a tournament. But when Sir Gruy learned that Sadoc 
had first provoked Duke Segwin, and brought his death 
upon himself, he determined to help Segwin against 



304 Popular Romances of the Middle Ag 



es. 



his sovereign the Emperor Regnier. He therefore 
gathered fifty knights together with Heraud, and coming 
secretly at night to the city of Seysone, was let in 
at a postern gate without the enemy being aware. In the 
morning after mass they made a sally against their foes, 
which numbered thirty thousand strong, and routed them, 
taking many noble prisoners. Three times the emperor 
came against the Greeks, each time with a new army 
larger than before. Twice did Sir Gruy vanquish the host, 
and drive them from the walls. The third time he took 
Sir Graire, the emperor's son, prisoner, and carried him 
into the city. Then the Emperor Kegnier determined, 
since he could not take the place by assault, to beleaguer 
it, and starve the town into surrender. And it was so 
that, while his army was set down before the walls, the 
emperor hunted alone in a wood hard by, and Sir Gary, 
meeting him there, gathered a branch of olive tree, and 
came bending to the emperor, saying, ' God save you, 
gentle sire. Duke Segwin sendeth me to make his peace 
with you. He will yield you all his lands and castles in 
burg and city, and hold them of you henceforth in vas- 
salage, but he now would have your presence in the city 
to a feast.' So the emperor was forced to go with him 
into the city as a prisoner, albeit he was served with the 
humility due to a sovereign both by Sir Gruy and Duke 
Segwin's knights. Sir Graire and the other captive nobles 
came also and prayed for peace with Duke Segwin, for 
they had been so well treated that they felt nothing but the 
truest friendship for their captor. So it befell when the 
emperor found himself feasting in the enemy's castle, sur- 
rounded by the flower of his own knights and nobles, and 
Duke Segwin and his band serving them humbly at table 
as though they had been servants in place of masters, he 
was touched by their generosity, and willingly agreed to 
a free and friendly peace. And this was celebrated by the 
emperor giving Duke Segwin his niece to wife, whilst the 



Gtcy of Warwick. 305 

Duke of Saxony wedded Duke Segwin's sister amid great 
rejoicings. 

Now after this, learning that Ernis, Emperor of Greece, 
was besieged in Constantinople his capital by the Saracens, 
Sir Guy levied an army of a thousand knights and went 
to his assistance. Well pleased was Ernis at so timely a 
succour, and he promised to reward Sir G-uy by making 
him heir to the throne and giving him the hand of his 
only daughter the beautiful Loret. Then Sir Gruy led 
the army forth from the city against the Soudan and his 
host, and defeated them so badly that for some days they 
were unable to rally their men for another encounter. 

In the meantime one of Sir Gary's knights named Sir 
Morgadour fell in love with the Princess Loret, and being- 
envious of Sir Gruy's achievements as well as jealous of 
such a rival, he sought how to embroil him with the em- 
peror and compass his disgrace. Wherefore one day when 
the Emperor Ernis was gone a-rivering with his hawks, 
Sir Morgadour challenged Sir G-uy to play a game of 
chess in the Princess Loret's chamber. They played 
there, Sir G-uy not thinking of treachery. But by-and- 
by the princess entered, and Sir Morgadour after greet- 
ing her took his leave quickly and came to the Emperor 
Ernis, telling him how Sir G-uy was alone in the chamber 
with his daughter. Ernis, however, paid little heed to 
the tale, for he said — 6 Well, and what of it ? Loret is his 
promised bride, and Sir G-uy is a good true knight. Away 
with your tales ! ' But Sir Morgadour was not to be baffled, 
so he went to Sir Gruy and said — 6 Behold how little trust 
is to be placed in a king ! Here is the Emperor Ernis 
mad wroth to hear you were alone with the Princess Loret, 
and swears he will have your life.' Then Sir Guy in 
great anger summoned his knights, and was going over to 
the Saracens, when, on his way, he met the emperor, who 
told him of the malice of Sir Morgadour and all was made 
plain. 

x 



306 Popular Romances of the Ms HI c ^ ge s. 

But now the Saracens coming anew against the city, Sir 
Guy went forth to meet them with many engines upon 
wheels which threw great stones quarried from a hill. Sir 
Guy and his army again defeated the Saracens, insomuch 
that a space of fifteen acres was covered so thick with 
dead that a man might not walk between, whilst the pile 
of slain around Sir Guy reached breast high. So the 
Soudan and his host withdrew to their camps. 

Then SirMorgadour bethought him of another wile. The 
Soudan had sworn to kill every Christian found in his camp, 
without regard to flag of truce or ambassage. So Sir 
Morgadour persuaded Ernis to send Sir Guy to the Soudan 
saying, that, since the war seemed likely to come to no 
speedy issue, it should be settled by single combat between 
two champions chosen from the Christian and the Saracen 
hosts. The counsel seemed good to Ernis, but yet he 
liked not to risk his son-in-law's life ; wherefore he called 
his Parliament together and asked for some bold knight 
to go and bear this message. When all the others held 
their peace, Sir Guy demanded to be sent upon the busi- 
ness, neither could the prayers and entreaties of Ernis 
cause him to forego the enterprise. He clad himself in 
iron hose and a trusty hauberk, set a helm of steel, gold- 
circled, on his head, and having girt his sword about him, 
leapt on his steed without so much as touching stirrup, 
and rode up to the Soudan's pavilion. He well knew it 
from the rest, since on the top thereof flashed a great 
carbuncle stone. 

There were feasting the Soudan, ten kings, and many 
barons, when Sir Guy walked into the pavilion and 
delivered his message with great roughness of speech. 
' Seize him and slay him ! ' cried the Soudan. But Sir Guy 
cut his way through his assailants and rushing on the 
Soudan cut off his head ; and while he stooped to pick up 
the trophy with his left hand, with his right he slew six 
Saracens, then fought his passage past them all to the 



Guy of Warwick. 307 

tent door, and leapt upon his horse. But the whole 
Saracen host being roused he never would have got back 
for all his bravery, but that Heraud within the city saw 
in a dream the danger he was in, and assembling the 
Greek army and Sir Gruy's knights, came to his rescue 
and put the Saracens to flight. Then after the battle Sir 
Gruy came in triumph to Constantinople and laid the 
Soudan's head at the feet of the Emperor Ernis. 

Ernis, now being at peace from his enemies, would take 
Sir Gruy through his realms. On their way they saw 
a dragon fighting with a lion, and the lion having much 
the worst of the combat, Sir Gruy must needs go and fight 
the dragon. After a hard battle he laid the monster dead 
at his feet, and the lion came and licked the hands of his 
deliverer, and would in no wise depart from his side. 

Soon afterwards the Emperor Ernis gathered a great 
company of princes, dukes, earls, barons, bishops, abbots, 
and priors to the wedding feast, and in presence of them 
all he gave Sir Gruy to be ruler over half the kingdom, and 
led forth the Princess Loret to be his bride. 

But when Sir Gruy saw the wedding-ring, his old love 
came to his mind, and he bethought him of Felice. ' Alas ! ' 
he cried, ' Felice the bright and beautiful, my heart mis- 
gives me of forgetting thee. None other maid shall ever 
have my love.' Then he fell into a swoon, and when he 
came to himself he pleaded sudden sickness. So the mar- 
riage was put off, to the great distress of Ernis and his 
daughter Loret, and Sir Guy gat him to an inn. Heraud 
tended him there, and learned how it was for the sake of 
Felice that Gruy renounced so fair a bride, dowered with 
so rich a kingdom. But after a fortnight, when he could 
no longer feign illness because of the watchfulness of the 
emperor and the princess after his health, he was forced to 
return to court, and delay his marriage from day to day 
by one excuse and another, until at length fortune de- 
livered him from the strait. The lion which Sir Gruy had 

x 2 



308 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

tamed was used to roam about the palace, and grew so 
gentle that none feared him and none sought him harm. 
But Sir Morgadour, being sore vexed to think that all his 
plans against Sir Guy had failed, determined to wreak his 
spite upon the lion. He therefore watched until he found 
the lion asleep within an arbour, and then wounded him to 
death with his sword. The faithful beast dragged himself 
so far as Sir Guy's chamber, licked his master's hands, and 
fell dead at his feet. But a little maid which had espied 
Sir Morgadour told Sir Guy who had slain his lion. Then 
Sir Gruy went forth in quest of Sir Morgadour, and fought 
with him and slew him. He had forgiven the wrongs 
against himself, since he outwitted t'hem ; but he was fain 
to avenge his faithful favourite. Now Sir Morgadour was 
steward to the German Emperor Eegnier. So Sir Guy 
showed Ernis that if he remained longer at his court, 
Eegnier would surely make war on Greece to avenge his 
steward's death. Wherefore with this excuse he took his 
departure and set sail with Heraud in the first ship he 
could find. They landed in Germany, and visited the 
Emperor Eegnier without telling anything about his 
steward's death. Then they came to Lorraine. 

As Sir Guy took his way alone through a forest, having 
sent his servants on to prepare a place for him at an inn, 
he heard the groaning of a man in pain, and turning his 
horse that way, found a knight sore wounded, and like to 
die. This knight was named Sir Thierry, and served the 
Duke of Lorraine. He told how he was riding through 
the wood with his lady, Osile, when fifteen armed men 
beset him, and forcibly carried off the lady to take her to 
Duke Otho of Favia, his rival. Then said Sir Guy, ' I also 
have a score to settle with Otho, the felon duke.' Then 
he took Sir Thierry's arms and armour, and went in pur- 
suit of the ravishers whom he soon overtook, and having 
slain every one, he set the lady on his steed and returned 
to the place where he had left the wounded knight. But 



Guy of Warwick. 309 

now Sir Thierry was gone ; for four knights of Duke 
Otho's band had come and carried him off. So Sir Guy 
set down the lady, and started to find the four knights. 
Having fought and vanquished them, he set Sir Thierry 
on his horse and returned'. But now Osile was gone. He 
searched for many hours to find her, but in vain. So as 
nightfall drew on he took Sir Thierry to the inn. There 
by good fortune they found the lady, Sir Guy's servants 
having met her in the wood and brought her with them 
to await his coming. A leech soon came and dressed Sir 
Thierry's wounds, and by the careful tending of Osile and 
Sir Gruy, he got well. Then Sir Guy and Sir Thierry 
swore brotherhood in arms. 

Soon there came a messenger, saying that Duke Otho, 
hotly wrath at losing the fair Osile, had gone to lay waste 
the lands of Aubry, Sir Thierry's father ; the Duke of 
Lorraine was likewise helping him. Thereupon Sir Guy 
equipped five hundred knights and came with Sir Thierry 
to the city of Gurmoise where Aubry dwelt. It was a 
well ramparted city, and after being beaten in two battles 
with Sir Guy, Duke Otho found, despite the larger num- 
bers of his host, that he could not stand against the courage 
of the little army and the valour of its leader. Thinking 
therefore to gain Osile by treachery, he sent an archbishop 
to Aubry, offering peace and pledging himself to confirm 
the marriage of Sir Thierry and Osile, provided only that 
the lovers would go and kneel in homage to their sovereign 
Duke of Lorraine. Thereon Sir Thierry and his bride, to- 
gether with Sir Guy and Sir Heraud, set out unarmed, 
and after wending a day's journey out of Gurmoise, they 
met the Duke of Lorraine, who embraced and kissed them 
in token of peace.- But Otho coming forward as if to do 
the like, made a sign to a band of men whom he had in 
waiting to seize them. These quickly surrounded Sir 
Heraud and Sir Thierry and carried them off ; but Sir Guy 
with only his fists slew many of his assailants, and broke 



310 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

away to where a countryman stood with a staff in his 
hand. Snatching this for a weapon, Sir Gruy heat down 
the quickest of his pursuers, and made his escape. Duke 
Otho cast Sir Thierry into a deep dungeon in Pavia, and 
meanwhile gave Osile a respite of forty days wherein to 
consent to be his bride. But the Duke of Lorraine 
carried off Sir Heraud. 

Weary and hungered, and vexed at the loss of his 
friends, Sir Gruy came to a castle where he sought harbour 
for the right. Sir Amys of the Mountain, who dwelt 
there, welcomed him with a good will, and hearing his 
adventures, offered to raise an army of fifteen hundred 
men to help him against Duke Otho. But to this Sir 
Gruy said nay, because it would take too long. So, 
after a day or two, having hit upon a plan, he disguised 
himself by staining his face and darkening his hair and 
beard and eyebrows ; and setting out alone, came to Duke 
Otho with a present of a war-horse of great price, and 
said, ' You have in your keeping a dastard knight, by 
name Sir Thierry, who has done me much despite, and I 
would fain be avenged upon him.' Then Duke Otho, 
falling into the trap, appointed him jailor to Sir Thierry. 

The dungeon wherein Sir Thierry was prisoned was a 
pit of forty fathoms deep, and very soon Sir Gruy spake 
from the pit's mouth bidding him be of good cheer, for he 
would certainly deliver him. But a false Lombard over- 
heard these words, and thereby knowing that it was Sir 
Gruy, ran off straightway to tell Duke Otho. Sir Gruy 
followed quickly and sought to bribe the man with 
money to hold his peace, but without avail, for he would 
go into the palace where the duke was, and opened his 
mouth to tell the tale. Then with one blow Sir Gruy slew 
him at Duke Otho's feet. But Otho, very wroth, would 
have killed Sir Guy then and there, only that he averred 
that this was a certain traitor whom he found carrying food 
to the prisoner. Thus having appeased the duke's anger, 






Gtcy of Warwick. 3 1 1 

he gat away secretly to Osile, and bade her change her 
manner to Duke Oth 0, and make as though she were 
willing to have his love. The night before the day fixed 
for the wedding, Sir Guy let down a rope to Thierry in 
his pit, and having drawn him up, the two made all speed 
to the castle of Sir Amys. There, getting equipped with 
arms and armour, they leaped to horse on the morrow, 
and riding back to Pavia, met the wedding procession* 
Rushing into the midst Sir Guy slew Otho and Sir 
Thierry carried off Osile, whereupon they returned to Sir 
Amys with light hearts. And when the Duke of Lorraine 
had tidings of what had befallen Otho he had great fear 
of Sir Guy, and sent Sir Heraud back with costly gifts to 
make his peace. So Sir Thierry and Osile were wed, and 
a sumptuous banquet was held in their honour, with 
games, and hunting, and hawking, and justing, and singing 
of glee-men, more than can be told. 

Now as Sir Guy went a-hunting one day, he rode away 
from his party to pursue a boar of great size. And this 
boar, being very nimble and fleet of foot, led him a long 
chase till he came into Flanders. And when he killed 
the boar he blew upon his horn the prize. Florentine, 
King of Flanders, hearing it in his palace, said, ' Who is 
this that slays the tall game on my lands ? ' And he bade 
his son go forth and bring him in. The young prince 
coming with a haughty message to Sir Guy, the knight 
struck him with his hunting-horn, meaning no more than 
chastisement for his discourtesy. But by misadventure 
the prince fell dead at his feet. Thinking no more of the 
mishap, and knowing not who it was whom he had slain, 
Sir Guy rode on to the palace, and was received with good 
cheer at the king's table. But presently the prince's 
body being brought in, and Guy owning that he had done 
this deed, King Florentine took up an axe, and aimed a 
mighty blow at the slayer of his son. This Sir Guy quickly 
avoided, and when all arose to seize him, he smote them 



3 1 2 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

down on either hand, and fought his way through the hall 
till he reached his steed, whereon lightly leaping he 
hasted back to Sir Thierry. 

Then after a short while he took leave of Sir Thierry, 
and came with Sir Heraud to England, to the court of 
King Athelstan at York. Scarce had he arrived there 
when tidings came that a great black and winged dragon 
was ravaging Northumberland, and had destroyed whole 
troops of men which went against him. Sir Gruy at once 
armed himself in his best proven armour, and rode off in 
quest of the monster. He battled with the dragon from 
prime till undern, and on from undern until evensong, 
but for all the dragon was so strong and his hide so flinty 
Sir Gruy overcame him, and thrust his sword down the 
dragon's throat, and having cut off his head brought it to 
King Athelstan. Then while all England rang with this 
great exploit, he took his journey to Wallingford to see 
his parents. But they were dead ; so after grieving many 
days for them he gave his inheritance to Sir Heraud, and 
hasted to Felice at Warwick. 

Proudly she welcomed her true knight, and listened 
to the story of his deeds. Then laughingly Sir Gruy 
asked, should he go another quest before they two were 
wed? 

4 Nay, dear one,' said Felice, ' my heart misgives me I 
was wrong to peril your life so long for fame's sake and 
my pride in you. A great love-longing I have borne to 
have you home beside me. But now you shall go no more 
forth. My pride it was that made me wish you great and 
famous, and for that I bade you go ; but now, beside your 
greatness and your fame, I am become so little and 
so unworthy that I grow jealous lest you seek a 
worthier mate. We will not part again, dear lord Sir 
Gruy.' Then he kissed her tenderly and said, ' Felice, 
whatever of fame and renown I may have gained, I owe it 
all to you. It was won for you, and but for you it had not 



Guy of Warwick. 3 1 3 

"been — and so I lay it at your feet in loving homage, owning 
that I hold it all of you.' 

So they were wed amid the joy of all the town of War- 
wick ; for the spousings were of right royal sort, and Earl 
Eohand held a great tournament, and kept open court 
to all Warwick, Eockingham, and Oxford for fourteen 
days. 

Forty days they had been wed, when it happened that 
as Sir Gruy lay by a window of his tower, looking out upon 
the landscape, he fell to musing on his life. He thought, 
' How many men I have slain, how many battles I have 
fought, how many lands I have taken and destroyed ! All 
for a woman's love ; and not one single deed done for 
my God ! ' Then he thought ' I will go a pilgrimage for 
the sake of Holy Cross.' And when Felice knew what he 
meditated she wept, and with many bitter tears besought 
him not to leave her. But he sighed and said, ' Not 
yet one single deed for Grod above ! ' and held fast to his 
intent. So he clad himself in palmer's dress, and having 
taken a gold ring from his wife's hand and placed upon 
his own, he set out without any companion for the Holy 
Land. 

But Felice fell into a great wan-hope at his departure, 
and grieved continually, neither would be comforted : for 
she said, ' I have brought this on myself by sending him 
such perilous journeys heretofore, and now I cannot bear 
to part from him.' But that she bore his child she would 
have taken her own life for very trouble of heart : only for 
that child's sake she was fain to live and nurture it when 
it should be born. 

Now after Sir Gruy had made his toilsome pilgrimage to 
Jerusalem, and shrived him of his life, and done his 
prayers and penances about the holy places, he took his 
way to Antioch. 

Beside a well he met a certain Earl Jonas, whose fifteen 
sons were held in prison till he should find a champion to 



314 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

deliver the Saracen Sir Triamour from the hands of a 
fierce and terrible Ethiopian giant named Amiraunt. So 
Sir Gruy took arms again, and rode into the lists, and 
fought with Amiraunt and slew him ; thus both Sir Tria- 
mour was delivered from his enemy, and the sons of Earl 
Jonas were restored to him. After this, Sir Gruy travelled 
many years as a pilgrim of the Cross, till in his wanderings, 
chancing to come into Almayne, he there fell in with Sir 
Thierry, who, dressed in palmer's weeds, made sorry com- 
plaint. Sir Thierry told how a knight named Barnard 
inherited Pavia in the room of his cousin Duke Oth ; and 
how Barnard, being at enmity with him because of the 
slaying of Duke Otho, had never rested from doing him 
mischief with his sovereign, until the Duke of Lorraine 
dispossessed him from his lands and brought him into 
poverty. Howbeit Sir Gruy would not reveal himself, and 
Sir Thierry being faint and weary, laid his head upon Sir 
Gruy's knees, and so great a heaviness came over him that 
he fell asleep. As he slept, Sir Gruy, watching him, saw 
a small white weasel creep out from the mouth of the 
sleeping man, and run to a little rivulet that was hard by, 
going to and fro beside the bank, not seeming wistful how 
to get across. Then Sir Gruy rose gently and laid his 
sword athwart the stream from bank to bank ; so the weasel 
passed over the sword, as it had been a bridge, and having 
made his way to a hole at the foot of the hill on the other 
side, went in thereat. But presently the weasel came 
out, and crossing the stream in the same manner as before 
jumped into the sleeper's mouth again. Then Sir Thierry 
woke and told his dream. 'I dreamed,' said he, 'that I 
came beside a mighty torrent which I knew not how to 
pass, until I found a bridge of shining steel, over which I 
went, and came into a cavern underground, and therein I 
found a palace full of gold and jewels. I pray thee, brother 
palmer, read to me this dream.' 

Then Sir Guy said that without doubt it betokened a 



Guy of Warwick. 3 1 5 

fair treasure hid by a waterside, and with that showed him 
the hole under the hill whereat he had seen the weasel go 
in. There they digged and found the treasure, which 
was very great ; yet Sir Gruy would have no share therein, 
but took leave of Sir Thierry without ever making him- 
self known, and came to Lorraine to the duke that was 
Sir Thierry's sovereign. 

Seeing a palmer the Duke of Lorraine asked tidings of 
his travels. c Sir,' said the palmer, ' men in all lands 
speak of Sir Thierry, and much do blame you for taking 
away his heritage at the bidding of so false a knight as 
Sir Barnard. And palmer though I be, I yet will prove 
Sir Barnard recreant and traitor upon his body, and 
thereto I cast down my glove.' Then Sir Barnard took 
up the glove, and Sir Guy being furnished with armour 
and a sword and shield and spear, they did battle to- 
gether. And in the end Sir Gruy overcame and slew Sir 
Barnard, and demanded of the duke to restore Sir Thierry 
to his possessions, which being granted, he went in search of 
the banished man, and having found him in a church 
making his prayer, brought him straightway to the duke, 
and thus they were made friends. And when Sir Thierry 
found who his deliverer was he was exceeding glad and 
would willingly have divided all his inheritance with 
him. But Sir Gruy would receive neither fee nor reward, 
and after he had abode some time with him at the court, 
he took his way to England. 

Now Athelstan was besieged in Winchester by Anlaf 
King of Denmark, and could not come out of the city for 
the great host that was arrayed against him, whilst 
all the folk within the city Avails were famishing for want 
of food and thought of nothing but surrender. Moreover 
King Anlaf had proclaimed a challenge, giving them seven 
days' grace wherein either to deliver up the city keys, 
or to find a champion who should fight against the great 
and terrible Danish giant Colbrand ; and every day for seven 



3 16 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

days the giant came before the walls and cried for a man 
to fight with him. But there was found no man so 
hardy as to do battle with Colbrand. Then King Athelstan, 
as he walked* to and fro in his city and saw the distress 
of his people, was suddenly aware of a light that shone 
about him very brightly, and he heard a voice which 
charged him to intrust his cause to the first poor palmer he 
should meet. Soon after he met a palmer in the city, and 
weeuing not that it was Sir Guy, kneeled humbly to him, 
in sure faith in the heavenly voice, and asked his help. 
6 1 am an old man,' said the palmer, ' with little strength 
except what Heaven might give me for a people's need 
beset by enemies. But yet for England's sake and with 
Heaven's help I will undertake this battle.' 

They then clothed him in the richest armour that the 
city could furnish, with a good hauberk of steel, and a 
helmet whose gold circle sparkled with precious stones, and 
on the top whereof stood a flower wrought of divers 
colours in rare gems. Gloves of mail he wore, and greaves 
upon his legs, and a shirt of ring-mail upon his body, 
with a quilted gambeson beneath : sharp was the sword, 
and richly carved the heavy spear he bare ; his threefold 
shield was overlaid with gold. They led forth to him 
a swift steed ; but before he mounted he went down 
upon his knees and meekly told his beads, praying God to 
succour him that day. And the two kings held a parley 
for an hour, Anlaf promising on his part that if his 
champion fell he would go back with all his host to 
Denmark and nevermore make war on Britain, whilst 
Athelstan agreed, if his knight were vanquished, to make 
Anlaf King of England, and henceforth to be his vassal 
and pay tribute both of gold and silver money. 

Tli en Colbrand strode forth to the battle. So great 
was he of stature that no horse could bear him, nor 
indeed could any man make a cart wherein to carry him. 
He was armed with black armour of so great weight that 



Guy of Warwick. 3 1 7 

a score of men could scarce bear up his hauberk only, 
and it took three to carry his helm, He bare a great 
dart within his hand 5 and slung around his body were 
swords and battle-axes more than two hundred in 
number. 

Sir Gruy rode boldly at him, but his spear shivered 
into pieces against the giant's armour. Then Colbrand 
threw three darts. The first two passed wide, but the 
third crashed through Sir Ghiy's shield, and glided betwixt 
his arm and side, nor fell to ground till it had sped over 
a good acre of the field. Then a blow from the giant's 
sword just missed the knight, but lighting on his saddle 
at the back of him hewed horse and saddle clean in two ; 
so Sir Gruy was brought to ground. Yet lightly sprang 
he to his feet, and though seemingly but a child beside 
the monster man, he laid on hotly with his sword upon 
the giant's armour, until the sword brake in his hands. 
Then Colbrand called on him to yield, since he had no 
longer a weapon wherewith to fight. 'Nay,' answered 
Sir Gruy, ' but I will have one of thine,' and with that 
ran deftly to the giant's side and wrenched away a battle- 
axe wherewith he maintained the combat. Eight well 
Sir Gruy endured while Colbrand's mighty strokes shattered 
his armour all about him, until his shield being broke in 
pieces it seemed he could no longer make defence, and the 
Danes raised a great shout at their champion's triumph. 
Then Colbrand aimed a last stroke at the knight to lay 
him low, but Sir Gruy lightly avoiding it, the giant's 
sword smote into the earth a foot and more, and before 
he could withdraw it or free his hand, Sir Gruy hewed off 
the arm with his battle-axe ; and since Colbrand's weight 
leaned on that arm, he fell to ground. So Sir Gruy cut 
off his head, and triumphed over the giant Colbrand, and 
the Danes withdrew to their own country. 

Then without so much as telling who he was, Sir Gruy 
doffed his armour and put on his palmer's weeds again, 



3 1 8 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

and secretly withdrawing himself from all the feasts and 
games they held in honour of him in the city of Win- 
chester, passed out alone and took his journey toward 
Warwick on foot. 

Many a year had gone since he had left his wife and 
home. The boy whom Felice had borne him, named 
Kaynburn, he had never seen ; nor, as it befell, did he 
ever see his son. For Kaynburn in his childhood had 
been stolen away by Saracens and carried to a far heathen 
country, where King Aragus brought him up and made 
him first his page, then chamberlain, and as he grew to 
manhood, knighted him. And now he fought the battles 
of King Aragus with a strong arm like his father Gruy's, 
neither could any endure against his spear. But all 
these years Felice had passed in prayer and charity, 
entertaining pilgrims and tired wayfarers, and comforting 
the sick and the distressed. And it was so that Sir Gruy, all 
travel-worn and with his pilgrim's staff in hand, came to 
her house and craved an alms. She took him in and 
washed his feet and ministered to him, asking oftentimes 
if in his travels he had seen her lord Sir Gruy. But when 
he watched her gentleness to the poor and to the children 
at her gate, he feared to break in upon her holy life, and 
so refrained himself before her and would not reveal him- 
self, but with a heavy heart came out from the lady's 
door and gat him to a hermit's cell. There he abode in 
fasting and in penitence many weeks, till feeling his end 
draw near, he took the ring from his ringer and sent it 
by a herdsman to Felice. ' Where got you this token ? ' 
cried Felice, all trembling with her wonderment and fear. 
' From a poor beggar-man that lives in yonder cell,' the 
herdsman answered. ; From a beggar ? Nay, but from 
a kingly man,' said Felice, ' for he is my husband, Gruy 
of Warwick!' and gave the herdsman a hundred marks. 
Then she hasted and came to Sir Gruy in his hermit's 



Guy of Warwick. 319 

cell, and for a long space they wept in each other's arms 
and neither spake a word. 

Weaker and fainter waxed Sir Griiy. In a little while 
he died, and Felice closed his tired eyes. Fifteen weary 
days she lingered sore in grief, and then (rod's angel 
came and closed her own. 



20 



BOLAND. 

Charles the great king had tarried with his host seven 
years in Spain, until he conquered all the land down to 
the sea, and his banners were riddled through with battle- 
marks. There remained neither burg nor castle the 
Trails whereof he brake not down, save only Zaragoz, a 
fortress on a rugged mountain top, so steep and strong 
that he could not take it. There dwelt the pagan King 
Marsilius, who feared not (rod but served Apollyon and 
Mahound. 

King Marsilius caused his throne to be set in his garden 
beneath an olive tree, and thither he summoned his lords 
and nobles to council. Twenty thousand of his warriors 
being gathered about him, he spake to his dukes and 
counts saying, ' What shall we do ? Lo ! these seven 
years the great Charles has been winning all our lands 
till only Zaragoz remains to us. We are too few to give 
him battle, and, were it not so, man for man we are no 
match for his warriors. What shall we do to save our 
lands?' 

Then up and spake Blancandrin, wily counsellor — ' It is 
plain we must be rid of this proud Charles ; Spain 
must be rid of him. And since he is too strong t© drive 
out with the sword, let us try what promises will do. 
Send an ambassage and say we will give him great trea- 
sure in gold and cattle, hawk and hound; say we will be 
his vassals, do him service at his call ; say we will be 
baptized, forsake our gods and call upon his Grod : say 
anything, so long as it will persuade him to rise up with 



Roland. 321 

his host and quit our land. Fear nothing, promises cost 
little ; only promise large enough and we shall gain our 
ends. Wherefore let us choose out messengers to go to 
Charles and say after this manner : " Marsilius sends 
greeting to the mighty Charles. Thy servant Marsilius 
owns thy power, and that it is vain to strive against thee. 
But he would make a league with thee. Marsilius will 
renounce his gods, be baptized into Christendom, do 
thee homage and henceforth be thy vassal. Only make 
not war upon him, but depart in peace to thine own land 
and go to Aachen, and there keep the feast of Saint 
Michael. Thither thy servant Marsilius will haste to 
meet thee to perform all his covenant ; and with him he 
will bring tribute, many lions and hounds, seven hundred 
camels, and a thousand moulted falcons ; four hundred 
harnessed mules, and fifty chariots laden with gold and 
silver." By my right hand and beard, I swear we shall 
be rid of him. He will gather his warriors together and 
go back to his own people. He will want hostages, per- 
chance, for the fulfilment of our covenant. Let him have 
them. Let him have ten or twenty of our sons ; he shall 
have mine for one. What matters so we save our land ? 
Charles will go back to Aachen and hold the feast, and 
when the day comes round, will find we have beguiled 
him. Then he will wax furiously wroth and slay our 
hostages. What then ? Verily, it is better that a score 
of lads should lose their heads than that we should lose 
fair Spain. Better a score of us go childless than that all 
should come to beggary.' 

And all the pagans said, 6 It is well spoken.' 
Now Charles and his host were pitched before Cordova, 
besieging it. And King Marsilius chose out Blancandrin, 
and with him nine of the cruellest of his peers who like- 
wise would give their sons to be hostages, to go upon this 
errand. At the king's command men led forth ten white 
mules with golden bridles, and saddles trapped about 



322 Popidar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

with silver ; and he gave olive-branches to the messengers 
to bear in their hands withal in token of peace and 
friendship, and sent them on their journey to go and 
make to Charles all the fair promises which Blancandrin 
had counselled. 

Charles the Emperor held festival before Cordova, and 
rejoiced, he and his host, because they had taken the city. 
They had overthrown its walls ; they had gotten much 
booty, both of gold and silver and rich raiment; they 
had put cables round about its towers and dragged them 
down. Not a pagan remained in the city ; for they were 
all either slain or turned Christian. The emperor sat 
among his knights in a green pleasance. Eound about 
3iim were Eoland his nephew, captain of his host, and 
Oliver, and Duke Samson ; proud Anseis, Geoffrey of 
Anjou the king's standard-bearer, and fifteen thousand 
of the noblest born of gentle France. Some lounged 
upon the white cloth of damask spread upon the grass ; 
wise warriors of sober years sate round the chess-tables, 
wrapt in the plotting of their game ; the younger and 
more agile tilted on the green. Beneath a pine tree 
where a rose-briar twined, sat Charles the Great, ruler of 
France, upon a chair of gold. White and long was 
his beard ; huge of limb and hale of body was the king, 
and of noble countenance. It needed not that any man 
should ask his fellow, saying, ' Which is the king ?' for all 
might plainly know him for the ruler of his people. So 
when the messengers of King Marsilius came into his 
presence, they knew him straightway, and lighted quickly 
down from their mules and came meekly bending at his 
ieet. Then said Blancandrin, ' God save the king, the 
glorious king whom all men ought to worship. My 
master King Marsilius sends greeting to the great Charles 
whose power no man can withstand, and he prays thee 
make peace with him. Marsilius offers gifts of bears 
and lions and leashed hounds, seven hundred camels and 



Roland. 323 

a thousand moulted falcons, of gold and silver so much as 
four hundred mules harnessed to fifty chariots can draw, 
with all his treasure of jewels. Only make the peace and 
get thee to Aachen, and my master will meet thee there at 
the feast of St. Michael ; and he will be thy man henceforth 
in service and worship, and hold Spain of thee ; in sooth, 
all that he hath will he hold of thee ; thou shalt be his 
lord, and thy Grod shall be his Grod.' 

The emperor bowed his head the while he thought 
upon the purport of the message : for he never spake a 
hasty word, and never went back from a word once spoken. 
Having mused awhile he raised his head and answered, 
4 The King Marsilius is greatly my enemy. In what man- 
ner shall I be assured that he will keep his covenant?' 
The messengers said, ' Great king, we offer hostages of 
good faith, the children of our noblest. Take ten or 
twenty as it seemeth good to thee ; but treat them ten- 
derly, for verily at the feast of St. Michael our king will 
redeem his pledge, and come to Aachen to be baptized 
and pay his homage and his tribute.' 

Then the king commanded a pavilion to be spread 
wherein to lodge them for the night. And on the morrow, 
after they had taken their journey home, and the king 
had heard mass and matins, he called his barons to him. 
There came Duke Olger and Turpin the Archbishop, Ted- 
bald of Eheims, Grerard and Gerin, Count Eoland, and 
Oliver his companion who was ever at his side, and with 
them many thousand noble warriors. Granelon came also, 
he that wrought the treason and betrayed the Franks. 
Then the king showed them after what manner the mes- 
sengers had spoken and asked their counsel. With one 
voice the Franks answered, ' Beware of King Marsilius.' 

Then spake Eoland and said, 'Parley not with him, 
trust him not. Eemember how he took and slew Count 
Basant and Count Basil, the messengers whom we sent to 
him aforetime on a peaceful errand. Seven years have 

T 2 



324 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

we been in Spain, and now only Zaragoz holds out against 
us. Be not slack to finish what has been so long a-doing 
and is well-nigh done, (rather the host; lay siege to 
Zaragoz with all thy might and avenge the blood of 
Basant and Basil ; conquer the last stronghold of the 
pagans : so win Spain and end this long and weary war.' 

But Granelon drew near to the king and spake : ' Heed 
not the counsel of any babbler, unless it be to thine own 
profit. What has Marsilius promised ? Will he not give 
up his gods, himself, his service and his treasure ? Could 
man ask more? Could we get more by fighting him? 
How glorious would it be to go to war with a beaten man 
who offers thee his all ! How wise to wage a war to win 
what one can get without ! Koland is wholly puffed up 
with the pride of fools. He counsels battle for his glory's 
sake. What careth he how many of us be slain in a 
causeless fight, if he can win renown ? Koland is a brave 
man ; brave enough and strong enough to save his skin, 
and so is reckless of our lives.' 

Then said Duke Naymes (a better vassal never stood 
before a king), ' Granelon has spoken well, albeit bitterly. 
Marsilius is altogether vanquished, and there is no more 
glory in fighting him. Spurn not him who sues at thy 
feet for pity. Make peace, and let this long war end.' 
And all the Franks answered, 6 The counsel is good.' 

So Charles said, 6 Who will go up to Zaragoz to King 
Marsilius, and bear my glove and staff and make the 
covenant with him ?' 

Duke Naymes said straightway, 'I will go ;' but the king 
answered, ' Nay, thou shalt not go. Thou art my right 
hand in counsel and I cannot spare thee.' Then said 
Eoland, ' Send me.' But Count Oliver, his dear com- 
panion said, 4 What ! send thee upon a peaceful errand ? 
Hot-blooded as thou art, impatient of all parleying ? 
Nay, good Koland, thou would'st spoil any truce. Let the 
king send me.' 






Roland. 325 

Charles stroked his long white beard and said, t Hold 
your peace, both of you ; neither shall go.' 

Then arose Archbishop Turpin and said, ' Let me go. 
I am eager to see this pagan Marsilius and his heathen 
band. I long to baptize them all, and make their ever- 
lasting peace.' 

The king answered, 4 All in good time, zealous Turpin ; 
but first let them make their peace with me : take thy 
seat. Noble Franks, choose me a right worthy man to 
bear my message to Marsilius.' 

Koland answered, ' Send Granelon, my step-father.' And 
the Franks said, i Granelon is the man, for there is none 
more cunning of speech than he.' 

Now when the coward Granelon heard these words, he 
feared greatly, well-knowing the fate of them which had 
gone aforetime as messengers to Marsilius ; and his anger 
was kindled against Eoland insomuch that the fashion of 
his countenance changed in sight of all. Then he arose 
from the ground, and throwing the mantle of sable fur 
from his neck, said fiercely to Eoland, ' Men know full 
well that I am thy step-father, and that there is no love 
between us ; but thou art a fool thus openly to show thy 
malice. If Grod but give me to return alive, I will re- 
quite thee.' 

Eoland answered, ' I hear thy words and despise them. 
These men well know I had no thought of malice. The 
errand is honourable, and needs a man both skilful and 
complaisant of speech. Be proud if the king adjudges it 
to thee.' 

Then spake Granelon, 6 1 should not go at thy bidding : 
thou hast never gone or come at mine. Thou art not my 
son nor am I thy sire. Let Charles command me, I will 
do his service. But thou shalt repent of this.' Thereat 
Eoland laughed aloud. And Granelon, when he heard him 
laugh, turned in a rage and said, 6 You shall repent of this ! ' 
Then he came bending to King Charles, 'Eightful em- 



326 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

peror, I am ready to go up to Zaragoz, albeit no messen- 
ger ever returned thence alive. But I pray thee for my 
boy Baldwin, who is yet young, that thou wilt care for 
him. Is he not the son of thy sister whom I wedded ? 
Let him have my lands and honours, and train him up 
among thy knights if I return no more.' 

Charles answered, 6 Be not so faint-hearted ; take the 
glove and baton, since, the Franks have awarded it to thee, 
and go, do my bidding.' Granelon said, 'Sire, this is 
Eoland's doing. All my life have I hated him ; and I 
like no better his companion, Oliver. And as for the 
twelve champion peers of France, who stand by him in all 
he does, and in whose eyes Roland can do no wrong, I 
defy them all, here and now.' 

Charles smoothed his snowy beard and said, 'Verily 
Count Granelon thou hast an ill humour. Wert thou as 
valiant of fight as thou art of speech, the twelve peers 
perchance might tremble. But they laugh. Let them. 
Thy tongue may prove of better service to us upon this 
mission than their swords.' Then the king drew off the 
glove from his right hand, and held it forth ; but Grane- 
lon, when he wept to take it, let it fall upon the ground. 
Thereat the Franks murmured, and said one to another, 
' This is an evil omen, and bodes ill for the message.' But 
Granelon picked it up quickly, saying, ' Fear not : you 
shall all hear tidings of it.' And Granelon said to the 
king, ' Dismiss me, I pray thee.' So the king gave him a 
letter signed with his hand and seal, and delivered to him 
the staff, saying, ' Gro, in Grod's name and mine.' 

Many of his good vassals would fain have accompanied 
him upon his journey, but Granelon answered, 6 Nay. 'Tis 
better one should die than many. Stay here, and if I am 
slain, like Basil and Basant, be true liegemen to my son 
Baldwin, and see you get him my lands.' Then Granelon 
leapt to horse, and rode on until he overtook the pagan 
messengers who had halted beneath an olive tree to rest. 



Roland. 327 

There Blancandrin talked with Granelon of the great 
Charles, and of the countries he had conquered, and of his 
riches and the splendour of his court. Granelon also spake 
bitterly of Eoland and his eagerness for war, and how he 
continually drave the king to battle, and was the fiercest 
of all the Franks against the pagans. Then after they 
had rested, they gat to horse again, and Granelon rode with 
Blancandrin a little apart from the rest. And Blancan- 
drin said to Granelon, ' Shall we have peace ? ' Granelon 
said, ' He that sueth for peace often desireth to gain op- 
portunity for war.' Blancandrin answered, 'He that 
beareth peace to his master's enemies often desireth to be 
aveno-ed of his own.' Then each of the two men knew the 
other to be a rogue ; and they made friends, and opened 
their hearts to each other, and each spake of what was in 
his mind, and they laid their plans. So it befell that when 
they came to Zaragoz, Blancandrin took Granelon by the 
hand, and led him to King Marsilius, saying, ' King ! 
who holdest thy power of Mohammed and Apollyon, we 
have borne thy message to the haughty Charles, but he 
answered never a word. He only raised his hands on high 
to his (rod, and held his peace : but he has sent the noble 
Count Granelon, at whose mouth we shall hear whether we 
may have peace or no.' 

Then Granelon, who had well considered beforehand 
what he should say, began, ' Grod save the worthy King 
Marsilius. Thus saith the mightv Charles through me 
his messenger : " So thou wilt become a Christian, I will 
give thee the half of Spain to hold of me in feof, and thou 
shalt pay me tribute and be my servant. Otherwise 
I will come suddenly and take the land away by force, 
and will bring thee to Aachen, to my court, and will there 
put thee to death." ' 

When King Marsilius heard this, the colour went from 
his face, and he snatched a javelin by the shaft, and 
poised it in his hand. Granelon watched him, his fingers 



328 PopzUar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

playing the while with the sword hilt underneath his 
mantle, and he said, ; Great king, I have given my mes- 
sage and have freed me of my burden. Let the bearer oi 
such a message die if so it seemeth good to thee. But I 
dared not leave this land, for all the gold God made, 
without delivering my master's message. What shall it 
profit thee to slay the messenger ? Will that wipe out 
the message, or bring a gentler one ? Or thinkest thou 
Charles careth not for his barons ? Eead now the writing 
of King Charles the Great.' Therewith he gave into the 
king's hand a parchment he had made ready in the like- 
ness of his master's writing. And Marsilius brake the 
seal, and read the letter : ' I, King Charles, remember how 
thou slewest Basant and his brother Basil ; and before I 
will make the peace, I command thee send hither to me 
thine uncle, the Caliph, that sitteth next thee on the 
throne, that I may do with him as I will.' Then the King's 
son drew his scimitar and ran on Ganelon, saying, ' Give 
him to me ; it is not fit this man should live ! ' But 
Ganelon turned, brandished his sword and set his back 
against a pine-trunk. Then cried Blancandrin, ' Do 
the Frank no harm ; for he has pledged himself to 
be our spy, and work for our profit.' So Blancandrin 
went and fetched Granelon, and led him by the hand and 
brought him against the king. And the king said, ' Good 
Sir Ganelon, I was wrong to be angry ; but I will make 
amends. I will give thee five hundred pieces of gold in 
token of my favour.' Ganelon answered, ' He that taketh 
not counsel to his own profit is a fool. God forbid I 
should so ill requite thy bounty as to say thee nay.' 

Marsilius said, ' Charles is very old. For years and 
years he has fought and conquered, and put down kings 
and taken their lands, and heaped up riches more than 
can be counted. Is he not yet weary of war, nor tired of 
conquest, nor satisfied with his riches ? ' Ganelon an- 
swered — ' Charles has long been tired of war ; but Eoland, 



Roland. 329 

his captain, is a covetous man, and greedy of possessions. 
He and his companion Oliver, and the twelve peers of 
France, continually do stir up the king to war. These 
lead the king to do whatsoever it listeth them ; but he 
is become old and feeble, and is aweary of them, and fain 
would rest. Were these but slain, the world would be at 
peace. But they have under them full twenty thousand 
men, the pick of all the host of France, and they are very 
terrible in war.' 

Marsilius spake to him again saying, ' Tell me ; I have 
four hundred thousand warriors, better men were never 
seen : would not these suffice to fight with Charles ? ' 

Granelon answered, ' Nay ; what folly is this ! Heed 
wiser counsel. Send back the hostages to Charles with 
me. Then will Charles gather his host together, and de- 
part out of Spain, and go to Aachen, there to await the 
fulfilment of thy covenant. But he will leave his rear- 
guard of twenty thousand, together with Eoland and 
Oliver and the Twelve, to follow after him. Fall thou on 
these with all thy warriors ; let not one escape. So shall 
the pride of Charles be broken ; for the strength of his 
army is not in his host, but in these, and in Eoland his 
right arm. Destroy them, and thou mayest choose thy 
terms of peace, for Charles will fight no more. The rear- 
guard will take their journey by the pass of Siza, along 
the narrow Valley of Eoncesvalles. Wherefore surround 
the valley with thy host, and lie in wait for them. They 
will fight hard, but in vain.' 

Then Marsilius made him swear upon the book of the 
law of Mohammed, and upon his sword-handle, that all 
should happen as he had said. Thus Granelon did the 
treason. And Marsilius gave Granelon rich presents of 
gold and precious stones, and bracelets of great worth. 
He gave him also the keys of his city of Zaragoz, that he 
should rule it after these things were come to pass, and 
promised him ten mules' burden of fine gold of Arabia. 



330 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

So he sent Ganelon again to Charles, and with him twenty- 
hostages of good faith. 

When Ganelon came before Charles, he told him King 
Marsilius would perform all the oath which he sware, and 
was even now set out upon his journey to do his fealty, 
and pay the price of peace, and be baptized. Then 
Charles lifted up his hands towards Heaven and thanked 
God for the prosperous ending of the war in Spain. 

Night fell and the king lay down to sleep. And as he 
slept he dreamed he was in the pass of Siza with no 
weapon in his hand save an ashen spear ; and Count 
Granelon came and snatched it from his hand and brake 
it into splinters. After that he dreamed he was in his 
royal city, and a viper came and fastened on his hand ; 
and while he tried to shake it off, and could not, a 
leopard sprang on him and gat him down and would have 
slain him, but that a faithful hound leaped straightway 
on the leopard and gripped him by the ear. Then the dog 
and the leopard fought a terrible combat ; but which of 
the twain overcame the other he could not tell. For the 
king tossed upon his bed in a sweat with the anguish of 
his dream ; and he awaked and saw the sun shine brightly 
all about, and knew it was a dream. 

But the king arose and gathered to him his host to go 
away to keep the feast of Saint Michael at Aachen, and to 
meet Marsilius there. And Olger the Dane made he captain 
of the vanguard of his army which should go with him. 
Then said the king to Granelon, ' Whom shall I make 
captain of the rear-guard which I leave behind ? ' Grane- 
lon answered, ' Eoland ; for there is none like him in all 
the host.' Then Roland said to his uncle the king, 'Give 
me the bow that is in thy hand ; I will not let it fall as 
Granelon did the glove and staff. Trust me.' So Charles 
made Eoland captain of the rear-guard, and gave the bow 
into his hand. With Eoland there remained behind, Oliver 
his dear comrade, and the twelve peers, and Turpin the 



Roland. 33 t 

Archbishop who for love of Eoland would fain go with 
him, and twenty-thousand proven warriors. Then said 
the king to his nephew, ' Good Eoland, behold, the half 
of my army have I given thee in charge. See thou keep 
them safely.' Eoland answered, ' Fear nothing. I shall 
render good account of them.' 

So they took leave of one another, and the king and 
his host marched forward till they reached the borders of 
Spain. They had to travel along steep and dangerous 
mountain ways, and down through silent valleys made 
gloomy with toppling crags. And ever as the king thought 
upon his nephew whom he left behind, his heart grew 
heavy with an ill foreboding. So they came into Grascoigny 
and saw their own lands again. But Charles would not 
be comforted, for being come into France he would sit 
with his face wrapped in his mantle, thinking of his 
dreams ; and he often spake to Duke Naymes, saying he 
feared that Granelon had wrought some treason. 

Now Marsilius had sent in haste to all his emirs and 
his barons to assemble a mighty army, and in three days 
he gathered four hundred thousand men to Eoncesvalles, 
and there lay in wait for the rear-guard of King Charles. 
And a great number of the most valiant pagan kings 
banded themselves together by a league to assail Eoland 
in a body, and to fight with none other till he was slain. 

JSTow when the rear-guard had toiled up the rocky pass 
and climbed the mountain-ridge, way-wearied, they looked 
down on Eoncesvalles, whither their journey lay. And 
behold ! all the valley bristled with spears, and the valley- 
sides were overspread with them, for multitude like blades 
of grass upon a pasture ; and the murmur of the pagan host 
rose to them on the mountain as the murmur of a sea. 
Then when they saw that Granelon had played them false 
Oliver spake to Eoland, 'What shall we now do because 
of this treason ? For this is a greater multitude of pagans 
than has ever been gathered together in the world before. 



332 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

And they will certainly give us battle.' Eoland an- 
swered, ' Grod grant it ; for sweet it is to do our duty for 
our king. This will we do : when we have rested we will 
go forward.' Then said Oliver, 4 We are but a handful. 
These are in number as the sands of the sea. Be wise ; 
take now your horn, good comrade, and sound it ; per- 
adventure Charles may hear, and come back with his host 
to succour us.' But Eoland answered, ; The greater the 
number the more glory. Grod forbid I should sound my 
horn and bring Charles back with his barons, and lose my 
good name, and bring disgrace upon us all. Fear not 
the numbers of the host ; I promise you they shall repent 
of coming here ; they are as good as dead already in my 
mind.' Three times Oliver urged him to sound his horn, 
but Eoland would not, for he said, ' Grod and His angels are 
on our side ; through Him we shall do great wonders, and 
He will not see us put to shame before His enemies.' Yet 
again Oliver pleaded, for he had mounted up into a pine 
tree and seen more of the multitude that came against 
them ; far as the eye could see they reached ; and he 
prayed Eoland to come and see also. But he would not ; 
' Time enough,' he said, ' to know their numbers when we 
come to count the slain. We will make ready for battle.' 

Then Archbishop Turpin gathered the band of warriors 
about him and said, ' It is a right good thing to die for 
king and faith ; and verily this day we all shall do it. 
But have no fear of death. For we shall meet to-night 
in Paradise, and wear the martyr's crown. Kneel now, 
confess your sins, and pray Grod's mercy.' Then the 
Franks kneeled on the ground while the archbishop shrived 
them clean and blessed them in the name of Grod. And 
after that he bade them rise, and, for penance, go scourge 
the pagans. 

Eoland ranged his trusty warriors and went to and fro 
among them riding upon his battle-horse Veillantif ; by 
his side his good sword Durendal. Small need had he to 



Roland. 33 



JO 



exhort them in extremity ; there was not a man but loved 
him unto death and cheerfully would follow where he led. 
He looked upon the pagan host, and his countenance 
waxed fierce and terrible ; he looked upon his band, and 
his face was mild and gentle. He said, ' Good comrades, 
lords, and barons, let no man grudge his life to-day ; but 
only see he sells it dear. A score of pagans is a poor 
price for one of us. I have promised to render good 
account of you. I have no fear. The battle-field will 
tell, if we cannot. Grod knows the issue of the fight, but 
we know that much glory and worship await us upon 
earth and crowns in Paradise.' Then he gave the word, 
6 Gro forward ! ' and with his golden spurs pricked Veil- 
lantif. So, foremost, he led the rear-guard down the 
mountain-side, down through the pass of Siza into the 
•Valley of Death called Eoncesvalles. Close following 
came Oliver, Archbishop Turpin, and the valiant Twelve ; 
the guard pressing forward with the shout ' Montjoy!' and 
bearing the snow-white banner of their king aloft. 

Marvellous and fierce was the battle. That was a good 
spear Eoland bare ; for it crashed through fifteen pagan 
bodies, through brass and hide and bone, before the 
trusty ash brake in his hand, or ever he was fain to draw 
Durendal from its sheath. The Twelve did wondrously ; 
nay, every man of the twenty thousand fought with lion- 
like courage ; neither counted any man his life dear to 
him. Archbishop Turpin, resting for a moment to get 
fresh breath, cried out, 4 Thank Grod to see the rear-guard 
fight to-day ! ' then spurred in again among them. Ro- 
land saw Oliver still fighting with the truncheon of his 
spear and said, ' Comrade, draw thy sword,' but he 
answered, ' Not while a handful of the stump remains. 
Weapons are precious to-day.' 

For hours they fought, and not a Frank gave way. 
Wheresoever a man planted his foot, he kept the ground 
or died. The guard hewed down the pagans by crowds, 



334 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

till the earth was heaped with full two hundred thousand 
heathen dead. Of those kings which banded together by 
oath to fight him, Eoland gave good account, for he laid 
them all dead about him in a ring, and Durendal to its 
hilt reeked blood. But many thousands of the Franks 
were slain, and of the Twelve there now remained but 
two. 

Marsilius looked upon his shattered host and saw them 
fall back in panic, for they were dismayed because of the 
Franks. But Marsilius heard the sound of trumpets from 
the mountain top and a glad man was he ; for twenty 
strong battalions of Saracens were come to his help, and 
these poured down the valley-side. Seeing this, the rest 
of the pagans took heart again, and they all massed about 
the remnant of the guard, and shut them in on every 
hand. Nevertheless Eoland and his fast lessening band 
were not dismayed. So marvellously they fought, so many 
thousand pagans hurled they down, making grim jests the 
while as though they played at war for sport, that their 
enemies were in mortal fear and doubted greatly if numbers 
would suffice to overwhelm these men, for it misgave them 
whether (rod's angels were come down to battle. But 
the brave rear-guard dwindled away, and Eoland scarce 
dared turn his eyes to see the handful that remained. 
Dead were the Twelve, dead was Duke Samson, dead 
Engeler of Grascoigny, and proud Duke Anseis, Grerin, and 
his companion Gerard, Griiise, and Berenger, with all the 
flower of the guard. 

Then Eoland spake to Oliver, ' Comrade, I will sound 
my horn, if peradventure Charles may hear and come to 
us.' But Oliver was angry, and answered, ' It is now too 
late. Had'st thou but heeded me in time, much weeping 
might have been spared the women of France, Charles 
should not have lost his guard, nor France her valiant 
Eoland.' 6 Talk not of what might have been,' said Arch- 
bishop Turpin, ' but blow thy horn. Charles cannot come 



Roland. 335 

in time to save our lives, but he will certainly come and 
avenge them.' 

Then Eoland put the horn to his mouth and blew a 
great blast. Far up the valley went the sound and smote 
against the mountain tops ; these napped it on from ridge 
to ridge for thirty leagues. Charles heard it in his hall 
and said, ' Listen ! what is that ? Surely our men do fight 
to-day.' But Ganelon answered the king : ' What folly 
is this ! It is only the sighing of the wind among the trees.' 

Weary with battle Eoland took the horn again and 
winded it with all his strength. So long and mighty was 
the blast, the veins stood out upon his forehead in great 
cords ; he blew on till with the strain his brain-pan brake 
asunder at the temples. Charles heard it in his palace 
and cried, ' Hark ! I hear Eoland's horn. He is in battle 
or he would not sound it.' Granelon answered, ' Too 
proud is he to sound it in battle. My lord the king 
groweth old and childish in his fears. What if it be 
Eoland's horn ? He hunteth perchance in the woods. 
Forsooth a merry jest it would be for him were the king 
to make ready for war and gather his thousands, and find 
Eoland at his sport, hunting a little hare ! ' 

The blood ran fast down Eoland's face, and in sore 
pain and heaviness he lifted the horn to his mouth and 
feebly winded it again. Charles heard it in his palace, 
and started from his seat ; the salt tears gathered in his 
eyes and dropped upon his snowy beard ; and he said, ' 
Eoland, my brave captain, too long have I delayed ! Thou 
art in evil need. I know it by the wailing of the horn ! 
Quick, now, to arms ! Make ready, every man ! For 
straightway we will go and help him.' Then he thrust 
Granelon away, and said to his servants, 4 Take this man, 
and bind him fast with chains ; keep him in ward till I 
return in peace and know if he have wrought us treason.' 
So they bound Granelon and flung him into a dungeon ; 
and Charles the Great and his host set out with all speed 
to come to Eoland. 



336 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Fierce with the cruel throbbing of his naked brain, and 
well-nigh blinded with the blood that trickled down his 
face, Eoland fought on, and with his good sword Durendal 
slew the pagan prince Faldrun and three and twenty 
redoubtable champions. The little company that was 
left of the brave rear-guard cut down great masses of the 
pagans, and reaped among them as the reapers reap at 
harvest time ; but one by one the reapers fell ere yet the 
harvest could be gathered in. Yet where each Frank lay, 
beside him there lay for a sheaf his pile of slain, so any 
man might see how dear he had sold his life. Marganices, 
the pagan king, espied where Oliver was fighting seven 
abreast, and spurred his horse and rode and smote him 
through the back a mortal wound. But Oliver turned and 
swung his sword Haltclere, and before he could triumph 
clave him through the helmet to his teeth. Yet even 
when the pains of death gat hold on Oliver so that his 
eyes grew dim and he knew no man, he never ceased 
striking out on every side with his sword and calling 
6 Montjoy ! ' Then Eoland hasted to his help, and cutting 
the pagans down for a wide space about, came to his old 
companion to lift him from his horse. But Oliver struck 
him a blow that brake the helm to shivers on his throbbing 
head. Nevertheless Koland for all his pain took him 
tenderly down and spake with much gentleness, saying, 
6 Dear comrade, I fear me thou art in an evil case.' 
Oliver said, c Thy voice is like Eoland's voice ; but I cannot 
see thee.' Koland answered, ' It is I, thy comrade.' Then 
he said, ' Forgive me, that I smote thee. It is so dark 
I cannot see thy face ; give me thy hand ; Grod bless 
thee, Eoland ; God bless Charles, and France ! ' So saying 
he fell upon his face and died. 

A heavy-hearted man was Eoland ; little recked he for 
his life since Oliver his good comrade was parted from him. 
Then he turned and looked for the famous rear-guard 
of King Charles the Great. 



Roland. 337 

Only two men were left beside himself. 

Turpin the Archbishop, Count Graulter, and Eoland set 
themselves together with the fixed intent to sell their 
lives as dearly as they might ; and when the pagans ran 
upon them in a multitude with shouts and cries, Eoland 
slew twenty, Count Graulter six, and Turpin five. Then 
the pagans drew back and gathered together all the rem- 
nant of their army, forty thousand horsemen and a thou- 
sand footmen with spears and javelins, and charged upon 
the three. Count Graulter fell at the first shock. The 
archbishop's horse was killed, and he being brought to 
earth, lay there a-dying, with four wounds in his forehead, 
and four in his breast. Yet gat Roland never a wound in 
all that fight, albeit the brain was parting asunder in his 
broken temples, and his pain was very sore. 

Then Eoland took the horn and sought to wind it yet 
again. Very feeble was the sound, yet Charles heard it 
away beyond the mountains, where he marched fast to 
help his guard. And the king said, ' Grood barons, great 
is Eoland's distress ; I know it by the sighing of the horn. 
Spare neither spur nor steed for Eoland's sake.' Then 
he commanded to sound all the clarions long and loud : 
and the mountains tossed the sound from peak to peak, 
so that it was plainly heard down in the Valley of Eonces- 
valles. 

The pagans heard the clarions ringing behind the 
mountains, and they said, ' These are the clarions of Charles 
the Great. Behold Charles cometh upon us with his host, 
and we shall have to fight the battle again if we remain. 
Let us rise up and depart quickly. There is but one man 
more to slay.' Then four hundred of the bravest rode at 
Eoland ; and he, spurring his weary horse against them, 
strove still to shout 'Montjoy !' but could not, for voice 
failed him. And when he was come within spear-cast, every 
pagan flung a spear at him, for they feared to go nigh 
him, and said, ' There is none born of woman can slay this 

z 



338 Poptilar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

man.' Stricken with twenty spears, the faithful steed, 
Veillantif, dropped down dead. Koland fell under him, 
his armour pierced everywhere with spear-points, yet not so 
much as a scratch upon his body. Stunned with the fall 
he lay there in a swoon. The pagans came and looked on 
him, and gave him up for dead. Then they left him and 
made all speed to flee before Charles should come. In 
haste they gat them up the mountain sides, and left the 
gloomy valley piled with dead, and fled away towards 
Spain. 

Koland lifted his eyes and beheld the pagans filing up 
the mountain passes ; and he was left alone among the 
dead. Then in great pain he drew his limbs from under- 
neath his horse, and gat upon his feet, but scarce could 
stand for the anguish of his brain beating against his 
temples. He dragged himself about the valley, and looked 
upon his dead friends and comrades. Eound about each 
one there lay a full score of pagan corpses, and Eoland 
said, ' Charles will see that the guard has done its duty.' He 
came to where Oliver lay, and he lifted the body tenderly 
in his arms, saying, ' Dear comrade, thou wast ever a good 
and gentle friend to me ; better warrior brake never a ' 
spear, nor wielded sword ; wise wert thou of counsel, and 
I repent me that once only I hearkened not to thy voice. 
Grod rest thy soul ! A sweeter friend and truer comrade 
no man ever had than thou.' Then Eoland heard a feeble 
voice, and turned and was ware of Archbishop Turpin. 
Upon the ground he lay a-dying, a piteous sight to see ; 
his face all marred with wounds, his body well-nigh hewed 
in twain, insomuch that his bowels came forth before his 
• eyes ; howbeit, he raised his trembling hands and blessed 
the brave dead about him in the dear name of Grod. And 
when Turpin beheld Eoland, his eyes were satisfied. He 
said, ' Dear Eoland, thank Grod the field is thine and mine. 
We have fought a good fight.' Then joined he his hands 
as though he fain would pray, and Eoland, seeing the 



Roland. 339 

archbishop like to faint for the sharpness of his distress, 
took and dragged himself to a running stream that he es- 
pied pass through the valley ; and he dipped up water in 
his horn to bring to him, but could not, for he fell upon the 
bank and swooned. And when he came to himself, and 
crawled to where the archbishop lay, he found him with 
his hands still clasped, but having neither thirst nor any 
pain, for he was at rest. A lonesome man in the Valley 
of Death, Roland wept for the last of his friends. 

But the brain began to ooze out from his temples, and 
his pain grew very grievous to be borne. And Eoland, 
when he found death coming on him, took his sword Du- 
rendal in one hand, anil his horn in the other, and crawled 
away about a bowshot to a green hillock whereupon four 
diverse marble steps were built beneath the trees. There 
he lay down in his agony. A certain Saracen was plun- 
dering there among the dead, and watched till Eoland 
ceased to moan in his pain : then, thinking there was no 
more breath in him, the thief stole softly up, and seeing the 
glitter of the hilt of Durendal, put forth his hand and 
drew it from its sheath. Eoland lifted his eyes and saw 
the thief bend over him with the sword in his hand. He 
seized the horn from beside him, and dealt the man a 
blow upon the crown that brake his skull. 

Then he took Durendal into his hands, and prayed that 
it might not fall into the power of his enemies. He said, 
' Durendal, how keen of edge, how bright of blade thou 
art ! God sent thee by his angel to King Charles, to be 
his captain's sword. Charles girt thee at my side. How 
many countries thou hast conquered for him in my hands ! 
Durendal though it grieves me sore, I had rather 
break thee than that pagan hands should wield thee against 
France.' Then he besought that God would now eke out 
his strength to break the sword; and lifting it in his hands 
he smote mightily upon the topmost marble step. The 
grey stone chipped and splintered, but the good blade 

z 2 



340 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

brake not, neither was its edge turned. He smote the 
second step, which was of sardonyx ; the blade bit it, and 
leaped back, but blunted not, nor brake. The third step 
was of grey adamant ; he smote it with all his might ; the 
adamant powdered where he struck, but the sword brake 
not, nor lost its edge. And when he could no more lift 
the sword, his heart smote him that he had tried to break 
the holy blade ; and he said, 4 Durendal, I am to 
blame ; the angels gave thee ; they will keep thee safe for 
Charles and France ! ' 

Then Roland, when he felt death creep upon him, lay 
down and set his face toward Spain and toward his ene- 
mies, that men should plainly see he fell a conqueror. 
Beneath him he put the sword and horn ; then having 
made his peace with Grod, he lay a-thinking. He thought 
of his master Charles who had nurtured him from a little 
child, and his face was all a-glow with pride. ' He will see 
that I have rendered good account.' He thought of sweet 
France and his home that was so dear. He thought of 
his dear maid, Hilda, who would weep and cry for him. 
Very sad and tender grew his heart. Then lifted he his 
weary hands to Heaven and closed his eyes ; and whilst 
he mused Grod sent His swift archangels, Gabriel and 
Michael, to bear his soul to Paradise. 

Grloom fell ; the mists went up, and there was only 
death and silence in the valley. The low red sun was 
setting in the west. 

Charles and his host rode hard, and drew not rein until 
they reached the mountain top, and looked down on the 
valley of Roncesvalles. They blew the clarions, but there 
was no sound, neither auy that answered save the ringing 
mountain sides. Then down through gloom and mist they 
rode, and saw the field ; saw Roland dead, and Oliver ; 
the archbishop and the twelve valiant peers, and every 
man of the twenty thousand chosen guard ; saw how 
fiercely they had fought, how hard they died. 



Roland. 341 

There was not one in all the king's host but lifted up 
his voice and wept for pity at the sight they saw. 

But Charles f the King is fallen on his face on Eoland's 
body, with a great and exceeding bitter cry. No word he 
spake, but only lay and moaned upon the dead that was 
so passing dear to him, 

Charles was an old man when he took the babe Eoland 
from his mother's arms. He had brought him up and 
nourished him, had taught him war, and watched him grow 
the bravest knight, the staunchest captain of his host. 
Eight gladly would he have given Spain and the fruits of 
all the seven years' war to have Eoland back again. Tears 
came, but brought no words ; and (rod sent sleep to com- 
fort him from his heaviness. And while the king slum- 
bered, the angel Grabriel came and strengthened him, and 
showed what should shortly come to pass, and bade him 
rise and follow after the pagans. The king arose and saw 
that the low red sun was not yet set ; for (rod made a 
miracle in the firmament, so that the sun stood still in the 
heavens, and went not down till he was avenged of his 
enemies. Duke Naymes said, ' Coming down the pass I 
saw a cloud of dust across the mountains on the other 
side. That was the pagan host fleeing to Zaragoz.' Then 
having watered and pastured their horses, the king left 
four good knights in Eoncesvalles to guard the dead from 
birds and beasts of prey, and set out in chase of the 
pagans. 

In the Yale of Tenebrus the Franks overtook them, 
hard by the broad, swift river Ebro. There being hemmed 
in, the river in front and the fierce Franks behind, the 
pagans were cut to pieces ; not one escaped, save Marsilius 
and a little band who had taken another way and got safe 
to Zaragoz. Thence Marsilius sent letters to Baligant, 
King of Babylon, who ruled forty kingdoms, praying him 
to come over and help him. And Baligant gathered a 
mighty great army and put off to sea to come to Marsilius. 



342 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

But King Charles went straightway back to Eoncesvalles 
to bury the dead. He summoned thither his bishops and 
abbots and canons to say mass for the soul§ of his guard 
and to burn incense of myrrh and antimony round about. 
But he would by no means lay Eoland and Oliver and 
Turpin in the earth. Wherefore he caused their bodies 
to be embalmed and washed with wine and piment, that 
he might have them ever before his eyes ; and he arrayed 
them in stuffs of great price and laid them in three coffins 
of white marble, and chose out the three richest chariots 
that he had and placed the coffins in them, that they might 
go with him whithersoever he went. 

Now after this Marsilius and Baligant came out to 
battle with King Charles before the walls of Zaragoz. 
But the king utterly destroyed the pagans there and slew 
King Baligant and King Marsilius, and brake down the 
gates of Zaragoz and took the city. So he conquered 
Spain and avenged himself for Eoland and his guard. 

But when King Charles would go back again to France 
his heart grew exceeding heavy. He said, s Eoland, my 
good friend, I have no more pleasure in this land which 
we have conquered. When I come again to Laon, to my 
palace, and men ask tidings, they will hear how many 
cities and kingdoms we have taken ; but no man will 
rejoice. They will say, Count Eoland our good captain 
is dead, and great sadness will fall on all the realm. 
Eoland, my friend, when I come again to Aachen, to my 
chapel, and men ask tidings, they will hear that we have won 
a land and lost the best captain in all France ; and they 
will weep and mourn, and say the war has been in vain. 
Eoland, my friend, would Grod that I had died for thee !' 
Now when the people of France heard how King Charles 
the Great returned victorious, they gathered together in 
great multitudes to welcome him. And when Hilda, the 
fair maid whom Eoland loved, heard it, she arrayed 
herself in her richest apparel and tired her hair with 



Roland. 343 

eager pains, and proudly decked herself with her jewels. 
For she said, ' I wonld be pleasing in the eyes of 
my brave true captain who comes home to wed with 
me. To-day I am his bride ! There is no gladder 
heart in France than mine. Who will not envy me, 
the bride of the brave captain whose name will be 
on every lip to-day ? ' Then she hasted and came 
merrily to the palace. And the king's guards all drew 
back for fear and let her pass, for they dared not speak a 
word to her. Eight proudly walked she through them, 
for she thought, ' This honour is all for Roland's sake ; ' 
and proudly came she to the king, saying — 6 Eoland, the 
captain of the host, where is he? Seven long years 
have I waited, so patiently, while he fought the battles 
of the king. I never murmured ; no, I am too proud of 
him and of France and of the king. But to-day he is 
mine. The king will give him to me to-day.' 

And Charles feared exceedingly and scarce could see 
for tears. He said, ' Dear sister, sweet friend, am I Grod 
that I can bring the dead back ? Eoland my nephew is 
dead ; Eoland my captain and my friend is dead. Nay ; 
take time and mourn with us. all, and when thy heart is 
healed I will give thee Ludwig mine own son, who will 
sit after me upon the throne. Take Ludwig in his stead.' 

But Grod is kind : He takes the broken-hearted home. 

Hilda cried not, nor uttered sound. The colour faded 
from her face, and straightway she fell dead at the king's 
feet. 

Charles and his barons wept for pity at her doleful 
case : and the king came down from his throne and lifted 
the maiden in his arms and laid her head upon his 
shoulder. And when he found of a truth that death had 
taken the gentle maid, he called four countesses and bade 
them see that she was interred right worshipfully. They 
made a noble bier and lifted Hilda thereupon and bore her 
to a nunnery. They set it in the midst of the chancel, that 



344 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

so she might lie there in her robes and jewels as she died; 
and all that night they sang sweet masses for her soul's 
good rest. At prime they buried her beneath the altar 
pavement. 

It is written in the old chronicle, that after these 
things Charles sent and summoned many men from many 
lands to come and try if Granelon had done him a treason 
or no ; for the, twenty thousand who were betrayed being- 
dead and the pagans utterly destroyed, there was none 
left to bear witness against him. So the king sent and 
fetched Granelon up out of prison and set him on his 
trial. Howbeit Granelon contrived to get thirty of his 
kinsfolk chosen among his judges, and chief of them Pin- 
abel, a man of great stature and strength of limb. More- 
over Pinabel was a ready man to pick a quarrel with any ; 
a man cunning of tongue and very rich and powerful, so 
that people feared him greatly. These thirty Granelon 
bribed, with part of the price he took from King Mar- 
silius for the treason, to give judgment for him. Then 
Pinabel and the others went to and fro among the judges 
and persuaded them, saying — 'We have no witnesses, 
only Granelon himself, and what saith he ? He owns he 
hated Poland, and for that cause he challenged Poland, 
in presence of the king and all his court, to fight when 
he returned from his mission. The open challenger is not 
the betrayer in secret. Moreover, had he done this thing, 
would Granelon have come back again to King Charles? 
Besides, would any man betray an army of his friends to 
rid himself of a single enemy ? Blood enough has been 
shed. Slaying Granelon will not bring Poland back. The 
Franks are angry since they have lost their captain, and 
blindly clamour for a victim. Heed not their foolish cry, 
for Granelon has done no treason.' To this the others all 
agreed, save Tierry, the son of Duke Greoffrey; and he 
would not. 

The judges came to King Charles and said, ' We find 



Roland. 345 

that Ganelon has done nothing worthy of death. Let him 
live and take anew the oath of fealty to France and the 
king.' Then the king was grieved, and said, ' It misgives 
me you have played me false. In my esteem the judg- 
ment is not just. Nevertheless, it is judgment: only 
God can alter it.' 

Then stepped forth the youth Tierry, Geoffrey's son. 
He was but a lad, very little and slender of body and 
slight of limb. And he said, e Let not the king be sad. 
I Tierry do impeach Ganelon as a felon and a traitor who 
betrayed Koland and the rear-guard to the pagans, and I 
also say that thirty of Ganelon's kinsfolk have wrought 
treason and corrupted judgment. And this will I main- 
tain with my sword and prove upon the body of any man 
who will come to defend him or them.' Thereto to pledge 
himself he drew off his right glove and gave it to the 
king for a gage. 

Pinabel strode forward, a giant among the throng. He 
looked down upon the lad Tierry and despised him ; he 
came to the king and gave his glove, saying, ' I will fight 
this battle to the death.' The Franks pitied Tierry and 
feared for him, for they had hoped Naymes or Olger or 
some mighty champion would have undertaken the cause, 
and not a stripling. But Charles the King said, 6 God 
will show the right.' So they made ready the lists for the 
wager of battle ; and the king commanded Ganelon and 
his thirty kinsmen to be held in pledge against the issue. 

The battle was done in a green meadow near to Aachen 
in presence of the king and his barons and a great mul- 
titude of people. First the men rode together and tilted 
till their spears brake and the saddle-girths gave way ; 
then they left their steeds and fought on foot. Tierry 
was wondrous quick and agile, and wearied Pinabel at the 
outset by his swift sword-play; but Tierry's hand was 
weak against his sturdy adversary, and his sword point 
pierced not mail nor shield. Pinabel clave his helm and 



346 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

hewed great pieces off his mail, but could not slay him. 
Then said Pinabel, ' Fool, why should I kill thee ? Give 
up the battle and the cause, and I will be thy man hence- 
forth in faith and fealty. It shall prove greatly for thy 
profit to reconcile Granelon and the king.' 

Tierry answered, 4 I will not parley; Gk>d will surely 
show whether of us twain be right ! Ghiard thyself.' So 
they fell to again and all men saw that nothing would 
now part them till one was dead ; and straightway they gave 
the lad Tierry up for lost. Pinabel's sword was heavy, 
and great the strength of his arm. He smote Tierry a 
blow upon the helm that sliced off visor and ventailles 
and with it the youth's right cheek. But while his blood 
ran down upon the grass, Tierry lifted up his sword and 
struck the brown steel helm of Pinabel. Grod put His 
might into the young man's arm, for the blade cleft steel 
and skull, and entered Pinabel's brain, so that he reeled 
and dropped down dead. Then all the people shouted, 
6 Grod hath spoken ! Away with Granelon and his fellows ! ' 

Then King Charles raised up his hands to heaven 
and gave thanks, and taking Tierry in his arms em- 
braced him for joy, and with his own hands took off his 
armour, and he set the noblest in the land to tend his 
wounds. 

King Charles sat in judgment in his palace at Aachen. 
He said, ' Take the thirty kinsmen of Granelon, perverters 
of justice, let not one escape, and hang them.' Blithely 
the Franks obeyed his word. 

Then the king commanded four horses to be brought. 
And they tied ropes round Granelon's wrists and ankles, 
and harnessed the horses to them. The traitor lay and 
whined and begged for life with tears and promises and 
cries. But the very steeds arched up their necks in pride 
to do a pleasant work. No whip they needed, but only 
to be loosed, and quick they tare the traitor limb from 
limb upon the grass. So died Granelon as he lived, a 



Roland. 347 

cowaid. Thus Charles the King made an end of his 
vengeance for his guard. 

Now after these things were accomplished, and when 
Charles was grown very old and decrepit and the years fell 
heavy on him, the angel Grabriel came to the king as he 
slept, saying, ' Arise and go into Syria to succour King 
Vivian, for the pagans do hard beset him ! ' Charles sat 
up in his bed and sighed, c Have pity on thy servant ! 
So weary is my life ; and I would fain go home to God.' 

The old king wept and feebly plucked his snowy beard. 

This is the gest which Turold used to sing. 

"When William the Norman fought at Hastings, Taille- 
fer his minstrel, who sang full well, rode on before 
the Norman host and sang of Eoland and great Charles — 
of Oliver and the brave rear-guard which fell in Bon- 
ces valles. 



348 



OLGEB THE BANE. 

There was weeping in the palace of Godfrey King of 
Denmark ; for the queen whom he dearly loved had died 
in giving birth to a son ; and all the people mourned, 
both high and low; for she was a good queen, beautiful 
and royal among the noble ladies of the court and kind 
and tender to the poor. They took the babe from his 
dead mother's arms at midnight, and having named him 
Olger, carried him into another chamber and laid him on 
a richly quilted bed of down. Presently there was a 
gentle rustling in the room, and lo ! there appeared about 
the bed six shining fairies whose beauty was so awful and 
so wonderful that none but a child might gaze upon them 
without fear. One of the fairies, named Grlorian, drawing 
near took the boy in her arms and kissed him, saying, ' I 
give you to be the strongest and bravest knight of all 
your time.' Another, called Palestina, said, ' And I will 
always give you battles to fight.' Faramond, the third 
fairy, said, ' No man shall ever conquer him.' And Me- 
liora gave him < to be always sweet and gentle ; ' and 
Pristina, ' that he should be dear to all women, and 
happy in his love.' Then Morgan le Fay, which was 
queen of them all, took the child and held him long 
against her breast for the great love she bare him. She 
said, ' Sweet one, there scarce remains a gift for me to 
give you after all my sisters have promised, yet I give 
you this : that you shall never die, but after you have 
lived a life of glory on the earth you shall be mine, and I 
will bring you home to dwell with me for ever in Avalon, 



Olger the Dane. 349 

the land of Faery.' And the lady having kissed him 
many times pnt the child back upon the bed ; and all 
the fairies fled away into the air and the room was dark 
again. 

Olger grew up a brave child, tall, and strong in his 
limbs and very comely, so that when he was ten years 
old there was none like him for beauty and strength, for 
Nature seemed to have lavished all her treasures on him. 

Now Grodfrey King of Denmark was a bold and haughty 
prince who stood in fear of no man, and it befell when 
messengers came from France summoning him to do 
homage to the emperor Charles the Great for his lands, 
that Grodfrey returned for answer, ' Tell Charles I hold my 
lands of Grod and my good sword, and if he doubt it let 
him come and see. I will not do him homage.' Where- 
fore Charles came up against him with a mighty army, 
and after a long and stout resistance King Grodfrey being- 
defeated was obliged to promise to appear before the 
emperor every Easter and pay his allegiance. As a 
pledge that he would keep his word, the emperor required 
him to give up Olger his son for a hostage. To this 
Gfodfrey having agreed, Olger was carried away to the 
emperor's court, where he was instructed in all the arts of 
the time ; and the emperor was very glad to have so 
fearless and handsome a youth in his retinue. 

For three years the King of Denmark came faithfully to 
pay his court as he had promised, but in the fourth year 
Eastertide went by and Grodfrey did not come ; the truth 
being that he was married again and had another son, 
and the new queen wrought upon her husband's pride, 
persuading him not to humble himself any more before 
King Charles; for she thought, 'When the emperor finds he 
no longer pays homage Olger surely will be put to death, 
and so my son shall inherit the throne of Denmark.' As 
his father did not redeem his word Olger was committed 
to prison in the castle of Saint Omer to wait while 



350 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

messengers went to Grodfrey to find the reason of his break- 
ing faith. But Olger was kindly treated by the castle- 
keeper, for he found favour in the eyes of his wife, and 
especially in those of Bellisande, his fair daughter, who 
loved him from the moment that she saw him. So instead 
of being cast into the dungeon, Olger was placed in the 
best apartments of the castle, richly hung with tapestry; 
and was waited upon like a prince ; and Bellisande could 
no more keep her eyes from regarding him or her heart 
from going out towards him than the lily can help holding 
its cups out to get their fill of sunshine. 

But Grodfrey of Denmark entreated the messengers 
shamefully. He slit their ears and noses, shaved their 
heads, and sent them home disgraced. Wherefore these 
men returned to their master, and coming before him all 
marred and disfigured as they were, cried loudly for 
vengeance against Grodfrey and against his son Olger that 
was held as hostage. The emperor then sent orders to 
the castle to slay Olger instantly ; but the kind-hearted 
castle-keeper begged that at least the lad might first be 
brought before him and told why, innocent, he yet must 
suffer death. So, being brought to the emperor at a time 
when he feasted among his nobles, Olger came with much 
gentleness and kneeled meekly at his feet. Seeing the 
lad thus abase himself for his father's pride, the emperor 
was moved with pity, and would fain have spared his life ; 
but the messengers cried out for vengeance, and would 
have fallen on him themselves had not Duke Naymes of 
Bayiere pleaded for the boy and kept them back. Then 
Olger said, ' Sire, you know that I am innocent of blame, 
having always rendered you obedience. Let me not 
suffer for my father's fault ; but seeing I am his true 
heir, deign to receive from me the vassalage and homage he 
denies, — that by a life of service in your cause I may atone 
for him. As for your noble messengers, so cruelly ill-used, I 
will seek from this hour to repair their disgrace and take 



-** 



Olger tlie Dane. 35 r 

upon me to atone for all my father's misdeeds against 
them and you, if you but spare my life and use it in your 
service.' 

Now while the barons interceded for the lad, a knight 
rode up the hall in haste. ' Tidings, King Charles ! ' he 
cried, — < evil tidings, alas ! The Soudan and the Grand 
Turk Corsuble, and Dannemont his son, with King Cara- 
heu have taken Rome by assault. Ovand the Pope, the 
cardinals and legates, all have fled ; the churches are 
destroyed ; the holy relics lost, all save the body of 
St. Peter ; and the Christians put to the sword. Where- 
fore the Holy Father charges you as Christian king and 
pillar of the faith to march to succour of the Church ! ' 

Then Duke Naymes of Bayiere prayed to take Olger as 
his squire into the battle, offering to go bail for him in all 
his lands and hold himself a prisoner in his stead, if the 
lad should flee. Thereto the emperor having consented, 
straightway prepared his army for battle, swearing by his 
sceptre that he would never return till Rome should be 
restored to the Christians. But Olger first went back to the 
castle and wedded the beautiful Bellisande. When she 
wept at his departure Olger said, 6 Leave these tears, for 
God has given me life and you have given me love; gifts 
that will strengthen me to do great deeds of arms.' 
So he rode off with the host, with Naymes and his two 
brothers Geoffrey and Gautier ; and they journeyed till 
they came to Rome and encamped upon a hill before the 
city-walls with an army of two hundred thousand men. 

Now the Paynim host came out from Rome to fight 
the Franks upon the plain. Olger, bewildered and 
amazed to see the great crowds of knights in glittering 
armour, and the banners, and to hear for the first time the 
din of war, would fain have gone with Naymes and his 
brothers into the fight ; but they forbade him, charging 
him to remain among the tents. 

Looking down upon the battle from the hill, Olger 



352 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 
watched the hosts and tracked the standard of Kino- 

o 

Charles as it moved to the front. He saw the armies 
come together with a shout and join in battle with a 
noise that rent the air. But in a little while the standard 
wavered ; then it fell, then rose again ; and then he saw 
King Charles's own company of knights repulsed, while Sir 
Alory that bare the standard turned and fled for very life 
upon his horse. Seizing a battle-axe Olger ran down into 
the plain, caught the bridle of Alory's horse, and smote down 
the standard-bearer in his flight, saying, c Coward, go home 
with all the speed you may ! Live among monks and 
women there. But leave the noble banner, Refuge of 
France, with me ! ' Olger quickly disarmed the frightened 
and trembling Alory, got a squire to dress him in the 
standard-bearer's armour, leapt on a horse, and sword at 
breast, banner in hand, galloped to the battle with the 
fierceness of a lion, hewed his way through the Paynim 
to the thickest of the fight, and finding Naymes and 
many nobles held prisoners behind the pagan ranks, cat his 
way through to them, loosed their bonds, and cut a road 
back again for him and them. Wherever he went about 
the field Olger reaped among the enemy till he ramparted 
himself within a wall of slain. Hearing the king cry out 
for help, he leapt his steed out from a wall of dead and 
spurred to where he was. The king was down, Dannemont 
hadkillediiis horse under him and pressed him sore on every 
side. But Olger, though he had but one fighting hand, 
since he bare the standard in the other, rode upon the 
Paynim and quickly carved out a clear space about the 
king while he mounted a fresh horse. And in like 
manner three times he saved the life of Charles. Then 
with Olger and the standard at their head the king and all 
his host shouting their battle-cry, 6 Montjoy ! ' charged on 
the Paynim, routed them, and drove them to the city gates. 
After this King Charles commanded the standard- 
bearer to be brought before him ; but he wist not it was 



Olger the Dane. 353 

Qlger in Alory's armour, for his visor was down. Then 
said the emperor, 4 Alory, I thank you heartily for this 
day's work, and though I know not what should have 
made you flee at the outset, you have redeemed your 
honour nobly. I cannot tell how to reward you. Choose 
any province in my kingdom and I will make you ruler 
of it ; and you shall be my lieutenant to do battle for 
me in all disputes touching the crown of France, brave 
and fearless Alory!' And he wept for joy that God had 
sent him such a champion. But a squire that stood by, 
being surprised to hear the king speak thus of Alory, said, 
6 Sire, he is not on the field. Alory bowed the colours 
and fled at the first to save his skin, whilst as for this 
knight, who seized the standard from Alory's hands, I 
helped to dress him in Alory's armour, but I wot not who 
he is.' Then Olger lifted his helmet, and kneeling to the 
king said, ' Have pity, sire, on Godfrey King of Denmark, 
and let his son atone for his offence and be your faithful 
vassal in his stead.' And the king answered, 4 You have 
altogether turned into love the anger which I bare against 
you and your father. I give you your request. Where- 
fore rise Sir Olger, Champion for France and Charles, 
and Grod be with you.' Thus Olger received the accolade 
upon the battle-field, and all the peers of France came 
to salute him and to render thanks for their deliverance. 
Then, flushed with his new-made knighthood, Sir Olger 
sped like an arrow against the foe and fought with a 
courage surmounting mortal fear. Bearing the standard 
aloft he made it terrible to the enemy, insomuch that the 
Paynim withdrew the length of a bowshot before the 
wind of his sword and the tramping of his steed. And 
wheresoever the Franks fell in disorder, or wavering 
turned to flee, a knight upon a great horse would surely ride 
into their midst and do such mighty deeds that they turned 
to see for very wonderment, and scarce believed him mortal, 
till, knowing their brave champion, they would cry with 

AA 



354 Popular Ro?nances of the Middle Ages. 

a great shout, ' Olger the Dane ! ' and fearless in his 
company, charge mightily upon the foe. 

Sadonne rode from the Paynim camp to bid Danne- 
mont hold the field, since Caraheu, Emperor of India, with 
thirty kings, was coming to his help. He met the Paynim 
army coming towards him in full flight, crying out in 
panic — ' Save yourselves, for Michael the Archangel fights 
against us ! ' 

And he saw the terrible knight on the tall horse, and 
threw down his arms and begged for life. 

' Who are you, that I should grant it ? ' said Sir Olger. 

He answered, ' My master is Caraheu, Emperor of Upper 
India, and I am Sadonne, his admiral, cousin to King 
Corsuble.' J$ 

Then said Sir Olger, ' I grant your life on one condition : 
bear Caraheu my challenge to fight with m^ single 
combat, and so determine all the issue of the war A 

Next day came Caraheu with a stately retinue to the 
pavilion of King Charles, bearing in his train the beau- 
teous Gloriande, Corsuble's daughter, the fairest woman 
of the East. Her hair flowed in a golden shower to her 
feet, and a jewelled circle of rare workmanship bound it 
about her temples. She wore a dress of pure white 
damask sewn with pearls, a wonder of the weaver's art 
which took nine years to weave. 

Then said Caraheu the Emperor — < I seek Olger the 
Dane, who has demanded single combat. I accept his chal- 
lenge, and I bring fair Grloriande, my promised bride, a 
noble prize for victory.' 

But the son of King Charles, Chariot, being envious of 
Sir Olger, said, ' It is not meet, great Caraheu, that you 
should battle with my father's bondsman, but rather with 
me.' 

Caraheu answered, 'I fight not braggarts, but men. 
Sir Olger is a king of men, far nobler than a mere king 
of land.' 



Olger the Dane. 355 

' Noble enemy,' answered Olger, ' your words make me 
grieve to fight against you rather than at your side. Yet 
Chariot is the emperor's son, and worthy to just with the 
bravest.' 

'He shall tourney with Sadonne, my admiral,' said 
Caraheu, ' but I will fight with you alone,' 

Thus a double combat was arranged, and they went to 
an isle to fight, and Grloriande with them, that her eyes 
might strengthen them to battle for such a prize. But 
Dannemont the Paynim treacherously hid three hundred 
men among the bushes to lie in wait. Caraheu's shield bore, 
on a field argent, four bands azure with the figure of Ma- 
hound upon a scutcheon gules. Sir Olger's shield was 
Vjiite with a black eagle thereupon. Bravely they fought 
for half a day, and long the victory seemed to waver be- 
tween ' these two redoubtable champions. Meanwhile 
Sadonne killed Chariot's horse, and then honourably dis- 
mounted from his own to fight on equal terms ; but 
Chariot made a feint of fighting till he brought himself to 
where Sadonne's steed was ; then leaping on it, basely fled. 

Caraheu's good sword, Courtain, of marvellous temper, 
cut through Olger's shield and armour. Nevertheless at 
last the Dane by great strength bore Caraheu to the 
ground, and got him at his mercy ; but still he admired the 
Indian monarch's courtesy and courage so much that he 
would not slay him. Then Dannemont with Corsuble and 
his men seeing their champion down, rushed from their 
hiding place and assailed Sir Olger ; whereat Caraheu, being- 
very wroth at their treachery, fought beside Sir Olger, 
crying, 6 Traitors, better death than shame like this ! ' So 
the enemies of an hour before became brothers in arms 
for honour's sake, and between them slew a hundred of 
their common foes. Howbeit they were overpowered by 
numbers, and Sir Olger owed his life to Grloriande's 
pleading. He was led away to prison loaded with chains. 
In vain did Dannemont and Corsuble seek to reconcile 

A A 2 



356 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Caraheu, their great ally, to their treasonable act. Cara- 
heu, though he had to leave Grloriande whom he loved, 
went over with all his host to King Charles, and joined 
with him to gain redress from the Paynim for Olger's 
seizure. 

But Grloriande came secretly to Olger in his prison, 
loosed his chains, and set him free. So he escaped to 
King Charles and Caraheu. After that together they 
fought the Paynim till they discomfited them ; and Eome 
being freed, the Pope returned to the city with his car- 
dinals and legates, and Holy Church was stablished firm 
again. Olger with his own hand rescued Grloriande, and 
gave her into Caraheu's hands to be his wife. So they 
were wed and baptised in Eome ; and the Indian emperor 
returned to his empire a Christian, with a Christian wife. 
But first he gave Sir Olger the famed Damascus sword, 
Courtain, saying, ' You conquered me in fight and won 
my life and also my bride, and yet you gave both back to 
me. Take therefore this sword, offered in friendly homage, 
as a pledge that I owe you all.' 

Then Olger came to France with King Charles, and 
found his wife had died in giving birth to a son named 
Baldwin. And Baldwin was dear to Olger, and the child's 
prattle very grateful to his ears for Bellisande's sweet 
sake. 

Now the Paynim had come down on Denmark, seizing 
on all the land save only Mayence, where Bang Godfrey 
was besieged and suffered famine. And the queen said, 
' Surely this misery is come on us for Olger's sake whom 
we abandoned.' And being brought very low with hunger 
and distress, at last they wrote a letter to King Charles, 
praying him to overlook the past, and in pity send them 
succour lest they die. But Charles said coldly, * Nay — 
since Grodfrey holds his lands of Ood and his good sword, 
let him hold them. I will not raise a finger for his help; ' 
and straitly forbade that any knight about his court should 



Olger the Dane. 357 

go to succour them on pain of death. Then turning to 
Olger he said — ' You would not wish to aid a traitor who 
has thrown off my yoke, insulted me, and who, moreover, 
left you selfishly to suffer for his crimes ? ' But Olger 
bending before Charles the King, answered — ' Sire, I kneel 
as vassal to my king, but Godfrey is my father and I go. 
The king will not forbid a son his duty.' 

Then said Charles, ' Gro — but go alone, saving your own 
servants. Mine shall not fight in a rebel's cause.' 

So Olger hastened to Mayence with only thirty of his 
servants. And when he reached the city walls he found a 
battle raging; for King Godfrey had made a desperate sally 
against his enemies and thrown them into disorder, but 
was fallen in the fray pierced with many wounds, and the 
Danes were fighting for his lifeless body. Olger with his 
little band rode into the battle with his sword Courtain, 
and where he passed he left a lane hedged up with bodies 
upon either side, whilst the Danes, rejoicing at so good a 
succour, with his help put the Paynims to the rout, nor 
ceased pursuit till all their enemies were either slain or 
driven from the land. So Olger was made King of Den- 
mark in his father's stead, and remained five years in that 
country till he had founded a wise government and made 
good laws for the people. Then he returned to France 
and came kneeling to the emperor at Eastertide, saying, 
4 G-odfrey's son, of his own free will, thus pays his homage 
to King Charles for all the land of Denmark.' So he grew 
in greater favour than ever with the emperor. 

One day Baldwin, his son, now grown a pretty, fair- 
haired boy and general favourite, played chess with Chariot, 
whom, having fool's-mated, he bantered on the game. 
The prince, ever jealous of the father, and now stung by 
the son's playful triumph, flew in a passion, and with the 
heavy chess-board beat out his brains. 

Bitterly Olger wept when he returned from hunting, to 
find the son he left so full of life and frolic but an hour 



358 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

before, struck down by a murderer's hand. Taking the 
body in bis arms, and covering it with tears and kisses, 
he came to King Charles and laid it at his feet. 

4 Sire,' said he, s look upon your son's foul work.' 

' Truly,' answered the emperor, ' I grieve for you, Sir 
Olger, and would give half my kingdom to blot out the 
deed. But there is no repayment for so great a loss.' Said 
Olger, 4 There is no repayment, but there is punishment ; 
and I demand to fight with your son to avenge my poor 
boy's death.' 

' Nay, Olger, have pity ; ' said the emperor, ' spare my 
son. How could he fight with you and have a bare chance 
of his life?' 

' What of that ? ' returned the knight bitterly. ' Would, 
he have more chance with the headsman if he met his 
rightful doom upon the public block ? What is your son 
more than mine ? Deliver him to me.' 

' I cannot,' answered the king. 

6 Then, sire, till you learn justice we will part ' — and 
Olger turned upon his heel and left the court, and came 
to Didier, King of Lombardy, who made war against King 
Charles, and fought for him. 

It was in Lombardy that Olger got his faithful squire 
Benoist, a steadfast knight, who held his life cheap in his 
master's cause. Followed only by Benoist, Sir Olger bat- 
tled long upon the Lombard side against King Charles 
and his host. Where men would send a troop to re-in- 
force a flagging portion of the army, Sir Olger and his 
squire rode forth alone. Wherever went the black eagle 
on the argent shield, the Lombards rallied, and the Franks 
fell back in terror ; for a line of slain was the war-track of 
the Dane, and where men massed the thickest there he 
rode and made them fall like ripened sheaves before his 
sword Courtain. All the Franks feared to see their 
champion thus arrayed against them, and murmured 
loudly against the king for letting him depart. 



Olger the Dane. 359 

It was a long warfare, wherein, the Lombards fought 
their way on from place to place ; and the Franks, being 
always worsted before the mighty Dane, schemed how they 
might take him by subtlety. Archbishop Turpin with a 
little band of men came on him by a fountain lying 
wearily asleep after a battle, his arms flung here and there 
upon the grass. One seized his helm, another his sword 
Courtain, while others bare away his lance and shield, 
and bound him while he still slept heavily from great 
fatigue. 

King Charles would have slain Olger, both because he 
fought against him, beating down the flower of his chivalry, 
and because he feared his vengeance against Chariot his 
son. But Archbishop Turpin said, ' Nay — it was for the 
sake of France and Christendom I lent myself to surprise 
in bonds the noblest knight that ever wielded sword ; 
but for the sake of France and Christendom his life must 
not be lost. Howbeit since I took him, let me guard him 
safe in prison so he may do no further hurt against the 
cause, and I will be his bond.' Then Turpin took Olger to 
his castle, where he treated him with great kindness, 
holding him prisoner only on parole. 

Now Achar, King of England, landed in France with 
Clarice his daughter to do homage for his crown to 
the emperor ; but Bruhier, a Saracen giant, with a mighty 
army coming to make war on France, seized them before 
they could reach the court, and marched to battle against 
Charles. 

Long time they fought, but Charles's army was put to 
the worse and fled before the giant and his host, till 
fearing any more to go against the Saracens, the Franks 
called on the emperor to send for Olger the Dane from 
his prison. So he sent and intreated him to come to their 
succour. But Olger would not until the emperor should 
first deliver up his son Chariot into his hand. This for a 
long time he would not do, but at last his army clamoured 



360 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

at him, saying, 'Have you no care nor thought for us 
that Ave die in thousands in a hopeless fight ? What is 
one life to thousands ? ' So Charles was fain to give up 
his son. Chariot begged in vain for mercy, for Olger 
remembered but his fair-haired child and how his life 
was cruelly beaten out. So taking the prince by the hair 
he drew Courtain and raised his arm to strike. Then a 
voice fell from the sky, and the place was lightened round 
at out, 'Olger, stay thy hand! Slay not the son of the 
king ! ' All heard the voice and feared greatly, and 
Olger's hand fell to his side without striking. Then 
Charles embraced him and rendered thanks to Olger. 
6 Thank heaven, not me,' said the Dane. ' I do but bow to 
its will.' So they were made friends. 

Then Olger went to battle against Bruhier, and with 
him for their champion the Franks had no fear. Victory 
followed where he led. Sometimes, amazed, both friends 
and foes paused in the midst of conflict, wonderstruck to 
see his valiant deeds. He routed the Saracens and slew 
the giant Bruhier, and rescued the Princess Clarice, whom 
her father gave to Olger for his wife. So they were wed 
and went to England, where Achar gave up his crown to 
his deliverer and made him King of Britain. Olger 
reigned in Britain many years with his wife Clarice, till, 
being tired of peace, he went and fought the battles of 
the Cross in Palestine. There Caraheu the emperor 
joined him, and they overthrew King Moysant, and the 
Soudan Moradin and his brother Branquemond ; none 
could stand against the spear of the knight on the great 
horse who bore the black-eagle shield. There Olger 
fought till he grew old and grey ; yet waxed not his 
arm feeble, nor wearied he in fight ; men still fell thick 
before his sword Courtain, and where he went still panic 
spread among his foes, and fearless courage filled the 
breasts of all his friends. He took Acre, Babylon, and 
Jerusalem, of all which cities he was made king ; but he 






Olger the Dane. 361 

gave them to his kinsmen to rule in his stead, for he 
would fain see Charles the Great and his court again. 
So with a mighty retinue and accompanied by Caraheu 
and a fleet of vessels he set sail for" France. 

But a storm came down upon the sea and drave the 
ships hither and thither, at mercy of wind and wave, till 
they were parted one from another ; and Olger's vessel, 
mast, oars, and sail being carried away, was driven far out 
of its course into strange seas, where an unseen current drew 
it swiftly through the billowy foam and crashed the ship 
at last against a reef of loadstone rock. The mariners 
all leaped overboard, seeking in vain to climb the slip- 
pery rocks : the angry surf whirled the strong swimmers 
up and beat them lifeless on the reef. Sir Olger stood 
alone at night upon the sinking ship, looking out on the 
black tempest and the hurtling sea. He bared his head 
and drew his sword Courtain, which having kissed upon 
the hilt, he offered thanks to heaven for the might and 
courage granted him through life ; then with an un- 
blenched cheek awaited death. 

Presently he heard a voice in the air cry, ' Olger, I wait 
for thee. Fear not the waves, but come ! ' Then he cast 
himself into the sea, and a great wave bore him on its 
crest high up in air and placed him safely on the rocks. A 
strange light showed a narrow pathway among the crags, 
which Olger followed, walking towards the brightness till 
he reached a shining palace, invisible by day, but which at 
night glows into mortal ken — a palace of ivory and gold 
and ebony, glorious to behold, its halls made fair with 
imagery — and therein was set a banquet of most rare and 
dainty meats. Xone dwelt within this palace save a 
fairy horse, named Papillon, who motioned Olger to the 
banquet, and having brought water in a golden ewer 
that he might cleanse his hands, served humbly beside 
the knight at table till he had finished his repast. 
Then Papillon carried him to a bed whose pillars held 



362 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

golden candlesticks wherein tall tapers burned through 
the night. There Olger slept. But in the morning 
when he woke the palace had waned away in the dawn, 
and he was lying in a garden where the trees are always 
green, and the flowers fade not, and the summer never 
dies ; where the sun goes not down, and the soft sweet 
sky is never darkened with storm ; a garden in the Vale 
of Avalon, the land of Faery. And whilst his eyes were 
yet dazzled in wonderment, there stood suddenly at his 
side Morgan le Fay, queen of the faeries, clothed in a 
shining white kirtle, who said, " Welcome, dear knight, 
to Avalon. A weary time have I longed and waited for 
thy coming. Now thou art mine ; my lord, my love. So 
let the restless ages roll, and the world totter and decay ! 
We will dream on for ever in this changeless vale.' Then 
she put an inchanted ring upon his hand ; so the years 
slipped from his shoulders and he stood before her in 
prime of youth and vigour. And she placed upon his 
brow a priceless golden crown of myrtle leaves and laurel, 
a crown no mortal treasure would suffice to buy — the 
Crown of Forgetfulness. Then Olger remembered no 
more the things which were past. His old loves, toils and 
battles faded from his mind ; and in place of a dead 
memory a living love was given him, and he loved the 
fairy queen, and he was hers and she was his. Then she 
brought him to a palace where he found King Arthur 
healed of his wound, with whom he talked of knightly 
deeds and often rode with him in friendly justs against 
the forms of Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristrem, or the shapes 
of great giants and dragons which Morgan le Fay and 
her brother Oberon raised up by inchantment for their 
pastime. 

Thus dwelt Sir Olger in a faery dream of love and 
pleasure in the land where there is no death and no time. 
And thus two hundred years passed by, like yesterday to 
him dreaming in the faery's lap. 



Olger the Dane. 2&Z 

But France fell into trouble. The enemy were on her 
soil. Battle raged, but there was none to lead her armies 
forth to victory. Chivalry was either dead or slept. On 
every side the Franks were beaten by their foes and driven 
back by Paynim and by Saracen, until it seemed that 
they would be blotted out from among the peoples of the 
world ; and they cried for a deliverer. Morgan le Fay 
heard and pitied them ; and though it grieved her sore to 
part with her own dear knight, she said, ' Olger must go 
back to battle again, for France and Christendom ! ' So 
she went to him and said, 

6 Dear one, do you know how long you have dwelt with 
me?' 

6 A week, a month, a year, perchance,' he answered, with 
a smile and kiss — c one does not reckon time in Paradise.' 

Then she lifted the crown of forgetfulness from his 
brow and his memory came again. 

4 I must go back,' he cried, upstarting like one new 
wakened from a .dream — 4 I have tarried here too long. 
Clarice will wonder why I stay, and Caraheu will think 
me wrecked. Peradventure Charles, my master, calls for 
Olger, and calls in vain. My sword, my horse, my spear ! 
let me go, sweet queen. Yet tell me, have I dwelt long 
in this fair garden ? ' 

4 Not long to me, dear knight — but you shall go,' she 
answered. 

Then Morgan le Fay raised up his dead squire, Benoist, 
and brought his sword Courtain, and led forth Papillon 
for his steed. 

6 Gruard well the ring upon your hand,' she said, 4 for, 
wearing it, your youth and vigour will not fade.' She 
brought him moreover a torch, saying — 4 See that you 
kindle it not, so shall you live for ever ; but if by mis- 
chance it should break out and burn, cherish the fire with 
care, for the measure of your days is the last spark of the 
torch.' 



364 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Then she threw a spell upon them all that they slept 
the while she carried them through the air to France. 
And when Sir Olger awoke he found himself lying by a 
fountain, his arms and armour at his side, and Benoist 
holding Papillon ready for him to mount : and all his life 
in Avalon seemed but a night's dream. Leaping to horse 
they rode into a city. 

' What city is this ? ' asked Olger of a horseman whom 
he overtook. 

' Montpellier, Sir Knight.' 

' Oh, yes,' said the Dane, 'but I had forgotten. In truth 
I ought to know Montpellier well enough, for a kinsman 
of mine is governor of the city,' and he named the man 
he thought still ruled it. 

'You are pleased to jest,' the horseman answered — 
' there was a governor of the city of that name two hun- 
dred years ago — the present governor is Eegnier. But 
the man you speak of was a romance writer, wherefore I 
see you jest in claiming kinship with .him. I need not 
tell you that he wrote the romance of Olger the Dane ; a 
good story, though few believe it now, except perchance 
a man who goes about the city very often singing it, and 
picks up money from the crowd.' 

The horseman slackened his pace a little till Benoist 
came up with him. 

'Who is your master?' he whispered. 

' Sir,' said the faithful squire, ' surely you must know 
him ? He is Olger the Dane.' 

' You malapert,' said the horseman, ' Olger the Dane 
perished in shipwreck two hundred years ago, and but for 
courtesy to the chevalier your master, I would make you 
pay dearly for jesting with me ! ' 

Then the Dane and his squire rode on to the market- 
place of Meaux, where they stopped at the door of an inn 
which Olger well remembered. 

' Can we lodge here ?' he asked. 



Olger tlie Dane. 365 

< Certainly, Sir Knight,' answered the innkeeper, ' and 
be well treated.' 

c But I wish to see the landlord.' 

6 Sir ? ' said the innkeeper. ' I am the landlord.' 

6 Nay, nay,' answered Olger, 6 but I want to see Hubert 
the Neapolitan who keeps this house.' 

The man looked at him for a minute, and seeing the 
knight's countenance remain serious, he thought him no- 
thing less than a madman. So he shut the door in his 
face, and having barred it, ran to an upper window and 
shouted into the street — ' Here is a man who wishes to 
speak with Hubert, my grandfather's grandfather, who 
has been dead two hundred years. Seize him ! He is 
mad or possessed with a devil. Send for the Abbot of 
St. Faron to come and cast out the evil spirit ! ' 

A great crowd gathered about the inn and set upon the 
knight and his squire, harassing them with stones and 
darts ; and an archer shot at Benoist and killed him. 
Then Sir Olger, grieving for the death of his squire, 
turned upon the crowd in fierce anger and leaped Papillon 
into their midst and cut them down on all sides till he 
had scattered from the market-place all those that were 
not dead upon its pavement. But so hotly burned his 
wrath that it kindled the torch he bare in his breast ; 
wherefore he rode with it to the church of Saint Faron 
of Meaux. There the abbot met him. 

Olger said, 6 Is your name Simon ? You at least should 
know me, for I founded this abbey and endowed it with 
lands and money.' 

' Pardon,' answered the abbot, ' but I know little of 
those who came before me. Will you tell me your name?' 

6 Olger the Dane.' 

6 Strange,' thought the good man to himself, 'he calls me 
Simon when my name is Greoffrey, and the abbey charter 
certainly says that the abbot who lived in the days of 
Olger the Dane was named Simon, i Sir Knight,' said the 



366 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

abbot aloud, ' do you know that Simon has been buried 
so many years that his very bones are long since crumbled 
into dust?' 

6 What ! Simon gone ? And Charles the Great, and 
Caraheu and my wife Clarice — where are they all ? Not 
dead — it cannot be ! ' 

'Dead — long dead — two hundred years, my son,' the 
abbot said. Then a great awe and wonderment fell upon 
Sir Olger as he thought that his dream of Avalon and 
Morgan le Fay perchance was true ; and he followed the 
abbot into the church, scarce knowing whither he went, and 
there told all that had happened to him. And the abbot 
believed him and gave thanks to Heaven for sending back 
the redoubtable champion of France and Christendom. 
Then Olger told him the secret of the torch and begged 
him to make an iron treasure-house beneath the church, 
wherein so little air should come that the flame might 
dwindle to a single spark, and that spark being nursed 
and husbanded might smoulder slowly through the ages. 
Now this being done and the torch safely locked up and 
guarded, the abbot became very curious to take in his 
own hands the strange ring the knight wore on his ringer ; 
and Olger let him draw it off. Instantly his youth de- 
parted and he shrivelled into feebleness, a helpless 
withered husk of a man, with a skin like wrinkled parch- 
ment, and no sign of life save a quivering in his aged 
jaws. But his ring being restored, the Dane's strength 
and youth returned, and he leaped upon Papillon and rode 
off to fight for France. 

The enemy was gathered at Chartres, a mighty host, 
and the flagging and disheartened Franks, broken into 
disorder, fled everywhere before the Paynim. Suddenly 
appeared in their midst a knight of mighty stature with 
a black eagle on his shield and riding on a great horse ; a 
knight whose course about the battle-field was tracked 
with a long line of slain ; and the frightened Franks seeing 



Olger the Dane. 367 

the marvels which he did, stayed in their flight, saying 
one to another, with bated breath for wonderment, ' It is 
Olger the Dane ! ' till the whisper grew to a cry, and the 
cry to a great battle-shout that rent the air, 6 Olger the 
Dane ! Olger the Dane ! ' as rushing fearless on the foe 
they swept the Paynim from the field as a tide sweeps 
litter from its course. Again and again did Olger lead 
the Franks to victory, nor rested he from battle till 
France was free again and Holy Church was stablished, 
and the spirit of chivalry had revived as in the olden 
time. While he fought the torch burned fiercely in the 
church of Saint Faron of Meaux, but when he stayed 
his hand it dwindled to a spark again. 

Covered with glory and renown Sir Olger came at 
length to court. The King of France was dead, and the 
queen loved the knight for his bravery and gentleness. 
One day whilst he slept upon a couch within the banquet 
chamber of the palace, the queen came to him and one of 
her dames of honour, named the Lady of Senlis, with- 
drew the ring from his finger. They were frightened to 
see the strong man wither to an ancient dried-up skeleton. 
But the queen, knowing thereby of a truth that it was 
Olger the Dane, caused the ring to be immediately re- 
placed and he regained his former youth. Howbeit the 
Lady of Senlis loved Sir Olger as well as the queen, and 
finding he cared nothing for her love, she determined at 
least to hinder him from wedding with her rival. So she 
sent thirty strong knights to waylay him as he passed out 
from the palace, charging them to seize Morgan le Fay's 
ring from his hand. But Sir Olger spurred Papillon 
among them, and with Courtain his good sword cut them 
down : neither helm, hauberk, nor shirt of mail, availed 
against his strong arm. 

Now after this the queen would wed with Olger, for 
she said, ' He and no other shall sit upon the throne of 
Charles the Great, for he defended it of old and he has 



368 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

saved it now.' And Olger, flushed with the great honour 
of sitting on the seat of Charles his master, consented. 
So they made ready for the bridal, and all the lords and 
ladies of France came to be present at the marriage. 
Such pomp and ceremony was never seen since the crown- 
ing of King Charles. The church shone with the blaze 
of gold and heraldry, and glittered with the jewels of fair 
dames and the armour and the banners of brave knights. 
Stately music echoed through the aisles as a grand pro- 
cession entered, and the trumpeters and heralds pro- 
claimed the Queen of France and Olger king that shall 
be crowned. Then Sir Olger took the queen by the hand 
and led her through the bending throng till they came 
before the altar, and together kneeled upon the chancel 
pavement. 

Suddenly there shone a light, brighter than all the gold 
and jewels, and Morgan le Fay, clothed in a shining kirtle 
so dazzling that none might bear to look thereon, floated 
down upon a white cloud, and caught away Sir Olger. 
And the cloud received them both, and wrapping them 
from mortal sight went up and waned into thin air and 
vanished in the church, so that whither they went no man 
can tell. 

But Olger the Dane is not dead. For the torch still 
burns in the treasure house of the Abbey of Saint Faron 
of Meaux. He only dreams in the arms of Morgan le 
Fay in the faery land of Avalon, and one day he will waken 
and come back. 

When men fail in the land of the Franks in time of sore 
distress, when her armies fall upon the field and the spirit 
of her people is all broken in the battle-flight, when there 
is none to lead her children against the stranger and the 
spoiler of her land, Morgan le Fay will pity her and raise 
up her old champion, and the Dane shall come back on 
his mighty battle-horse to trample down the enemy. 
Then shall the Franks again shout ' Olger the Dane ! ' and 
like an angry flood sweep down upon the foe. 



Havelok. 369 



EAVELOK. 

There was once a king of England named Athelwold. 
Earl, baron, thane, knight, and bondsman, all loved him, 
for he set on high the wise and the just man, and put 
down the spoiler and the robber. At that time a man 
might carry gold about with him, as much as fifty pounds, 
and not fear loss. Chapmen and merchants bought and 
sold at their ease without danger of plunder. But it was 
bad for the evil person and for such as wrought shame, 
for they had to lurk and hide away from the king's 
wrath ; yet was it unavailing, for he searched out the 
evil-doer and punished him, wherever he might be. The 
fatherless and the widow found a sure friend in the king : 
he turned not away from the complaint of the helpless, 
but avenged them against the oppressor, were he never 
so strong. Kind was he to the poor, neither at any time 
thought he the fine bread upon his own table too good 
to give to the hungry. 

But a death-sickness fell on King Athelwold, and when 
he knew that his end was near he was greatly troubled, 
for he had one little daughter of tender age, named Grold- 
borough, and he grieved to leave her. 

' my little daughter, heir to all the land, yet so 
young thou can'st not walk upon it ; so helpless that thou 
canst not tell thy wants, and yet had need to give com- 
mandment like a queen ! For myself I would not care, 
being old and not afraid to die. But I had hoped to 
live till thou should'st be of age to wield the kingdom ; 
to see thee ride on horseback through the land, and round 

B B 



370 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

about a thousand knights to do thy bidding. Alas, my 
little child, what will become of thee when I am gone ? ' 

Then King Athelwold summoned his earls and barons, 
from Eoxborough to Dover, to come and take counsel 
with him as he lay a-dying on his bed at Winchester. 
And when they all wept sore at seeing the king so near 
his end, he said, ' Weep not, good friends, for since I am 
brought to death's door your tears can in nowise deliver 
me ; but rather give me your counsel. My little daughter 
that after me shall be your queen ; tell me in whose 
charge I may safely leave both her and England till she 
be grown of age to rule ? ' 

And with one accord they answered him, ' In the charge 
of Earl Grodrich of Cornwall, for he is a rightwise and a 
just man, and held in fear of all the land. Let him be 
ruler till our queen be grown.' 

Then the king sent for a fair linen cloth, and thereon 
having laid the mass book and the chalice and the 
paton, he made Earl Grodrich swear upon the holy bread 
and wine to be a true and faithful guardian of his child, 
without blame or reproach, tenderly to in treat her, and 
justly to govern the realm till she should be twenty winters 
old ; then to seek out the best, the bravest, and the 
strongest man as husband for her and deliver up the 
kingdom to her hand. And when Earl Grodrich had so 
sworn, the king shrived him clean of all his sins. Then 
having received his Saviour he folded his hands, saying, 
' Domine, in manus tuas ; ' and so died. 

There was sorrow and mourning among all the people 
for the death of good King Athelwold. Many the mass 
that was sung for him and the psalter that was said for 
his soul's rest. The bells tolled and the priests sang, and 
the people wept ; and they gave him a kingly burial. 

Then Earl Grodrich began to govern the kingdom ; and 
all the nobles and all the churls, both free and thrall, came 
and did allegiance to him. He set in all the castles strong 



Havelok. 371 

knights in whom he could trust, and appointed justices and 
sheriffs and peace-sergeants in all the shires. So he ruled 
the country with a firm hand, and not a single wight dare 
disobey his word, for all England feared him. Thus, as the 
years went on, the earl waxed wonderly strong and very rich. 

(xoldborough the king's daughter throve and grew up 
the fairest woman in all the land ; and she was wise in all 
manner of wisdom that is good and to be desired. But 
when the time drew on that Earl Grodrich should give up 
the kingdom to her, he began to think within himself — 
4 Shall I, that have ruled so long, give up the kingdom to 
a girl and let her be queen and lady over me ? And to 
what end ? All these strong earls and barons, governed 
by a weaker hand than mine, would throw off the yoke 
and split up England into little baronies, evermore fight- 
ing betwixt themselves for mastery. There would cease 
to be a kingdom and so there would cease to be a queen. 
She cannot rule it and she shall not have it. Besides, I 
have a son. Him will I teach to rule and make him king.' 

So the earl let his oath go for nothing, and went to 
Winchester where the maiden was, and fetched her away 
and carried her off to Dover to a castle that is by the sea 
shore. Therein he shut her up and dressed her in poor 
clothes, and fed her on scanty fare ; neither would he let 
any of her friends come near her. 

Now there was in Denmark a certain king called Birk- 
abeyn, who had three children, two daughters and a son. 
And Birkabeyn fell sick, and knowing that death had 
stricken him, he called for Grodard, whom he thought his 
truest friend, and said, ' Grodard, here I commend my 
children to thee. Care for them I pray thee, and bring 
them up as befits the children of a king. When the boy 
is grown and can bear a helm upon his head and wield a 
spear, I charge thee make him King of Denmark. Till 
then hold my estate and royalty in charge for him.' And 
Grodard swore to guard the children zealously, and to give 

B B 2 



372 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

up the kingdom to the boy. Then Birkabeyn died and 
was buried. But no sooner was the king laid in his grave 
than Grodard despised his oath ; for he took the children, 
Havelok, and his two little sisters, Swanborough and 
Helfled, and shut them up in a castle with barely clothes 
to cover them. And Havelok, the eldest, was scarce three 
years old. 

One day Grodard came to see the children and found them 
all crying for hunger and cold ; and he said angrily, 'How 
now ! What is all this crying about ? ' The boy Havelok 
answered him, ' We are very hungry, for we get scarce 
anything to eat. Is there no more corn, that men cannot 
make bread and give us ? We are very hungry.' But his 
little sisters only sate shivering with the cold, and sobbing, 
for they were too young to be able to speak. The cruel 
Grodard cared not. He went to where the little girls sate, 
and drew his knife, and took them up one after another 
and cut their throats. Havelok, seeing this sorry sight, was 
terribly afraid, and fell down on his knees begging Grodard 
to spare his life. So earnestly he pleaded that Grodard was 
fain to listen ; and listening he looked upon the knife, red 
with the children's blood ; and when he saw the still, 
dead faces of the little ones he had slain, and looked 
upon their brother's tearful face praying for life, his cruel 
courage failed him quite. He laid down the knife. He 
would that Havelok were dead, but feared to slay him for 
the silence that would come. So the boy pleaded on ; and 
Grodard stared at him as though his wits were gone ; then 
turned upon his heel and came out from the castle. ' Yet,' 
he thought, 'if I should let him go, one day he may wreak 
me mischief and perchance seize the crown. But if he 
dies my children will be lords of Denmark after me.' 
Then Grodard sent for a fisherman whose name was Grrim, 
and he said, ' Grrim, thou wottest well thou art my thrall. 
Do now my bidding and to-morrow I shall make thee free 
and give thee gold and land. Take this child with thee 



Havelok. 37 

to-night when thou goest a-fishing, and at moon-rise cast 
him in the sea, with a good anchor fast about his neck to 
keep him down. To-day I am thy master and the sin is 
mine. To-morrow thou art free.' 

Then Grrim took up the child and bound him fast, and 
having thrust a gag of clouts into his mouth so that he 
could not speak, he put him in a bag and took him on his 
back and carried him home. When Grrim got home his 
dame took the bag from off his shoulders and cast it 
down upon the ground within doors; and Grrim told 
her of his errand. Now as it drew to midnight he 
said, 'Kise up, dame, and blow up the fire to light a 
candle, and get me my clothes, for I must be stirring.' 
But when the woman came into the room where Have-^ 
lok lay she saw a bright light round the boy's head, as 
it had been a sunbeam, and she called to her husband 
to come and see. And when he came they both marvelled 
at the light and what it might mean, for it was very 
bright and shining. Then they unbound Havelok and 
took away the gag, and turning down his shirt they found 
a king-mark fair and plain upon his right shoulder. 6 Grod 
help us, dame,' said Grrim, ' but this is surely the heir of 
Denmark, son of Birkabeyn our king! Aye, and he shall 
be king in spite of Grodard.' Then Grrim fell down at the 
boy's feet and did him obeisance, and said, ' Forgive me, 
my king, for that I knew thee not. We are thy thralls* 
and henceforth will feed and clothe thee till thou art 
grown a man and can bear shield and spear. Then deal 
thou kindly by me and mine as I shall deal to thee. But 
fear not Grodard. He shall never know, and I shall be 
a bondsman still, for I will never be free till thou, my 
king, shalt set me free.' 

Then was Havelok very glad, and he sat up and begged 
for bread. And they hasted and fetched bread and cheese 
and butter and milk ; and for very hunger the boy ate up 
the whole loaf, for he was well-nigh famished. And after 



374 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

he had eaten, Grim made a fair bed and undressed Have- 
lok and laid him down to rest, saying, ' Sleep, my son ; 
sleep fast and sound and have no care, for nought shall 
harm thee.' 

On the morrow Grrim went to Godard and telling him 
he had drowned the boy, asked for his reward. But 
Grodard bade him go home and remain a thrall, and be 
thankful that he was not hanged for so wicked a deed. 
After a while Grrim, beginning to fear that both himself 
and Havelok might be slain, sold all his goods, his corn, 
and cattle, and fowls, and made ready his little ship, 
tarring and pitching it till not a seam nor a crack could 
be found, and setting a good mast and sail therein. Then 
with his wife, his three sons, his two daughters, and 
Havelok, he entered into the ship and sailed away from 
Denmark ; and a strong north wind arose and drove the 
vessel to England, and carried it up the Humber so far 
as Lindesay, where it grounded on the sands. Grrim got 
out of the boat with his wife and children and Havelok, 
and then drew it ashore. 

On the shore he built a house of earth and dwelt there- 
in, and from that time the place was called Grimsby, 
after Grrim. 

Grim did not want for food, for he was a good fisher- 
man both with net and hook, and he would go out in his 
boat and catch all manner of fish — sturgeons, turbo t, 
salmon, cod, herrings, mackerel, flounders, plaice, lam- 
preys, and thornback, and he never came home empty- 
handed. He had four panniers made for himself and his 
sons, and in these they used to carry the fish to Lincoln, 
to sell them, coming home laden with meat and meal, and 
simnel cakes, and hemp and rope to make new nets and 
lines. Thus they lived for twelve years. But Havelok 
saw that Grim worked very hard, and being now grown a 
strong lad, he bethought him ' I eat more than Grim and 
all his five children together, and yet do nothing to earn 



Havelok. 375 

the bread. I will no longer be idle, for it is a shame for 
a man not to work.' So he got Grim to let him have a 
pannier like the rest, and next day took out a great heaped 
basket of fish, and sold them well, bringing home silver 
money for them. After that he never stopped at home idle. 
But soon there arose a great dearth, and corn grew so dear 
that they could not take fish enough to buy bread for all. 
Then Havelok, since he needed so much to eat, deter- 
mined that he would no longer be a burden to the fisher- 
man. So Grim made him a coat of a piece of an old sail, 
and Havelok set off to Lincoln barefoot to seek for work. 

It so befell that Earl Godrich's cook, Bertram, wanted 
a scullion, and took Havelok into his service. There was 
plenty to eat and plenty to do. Havelok drew water and 
chopped wood, and brought turves to make fires, and 
carried heavy tubs and dishes, but was always merry and 
blithe. Little children loved to play with him ; and 
grown knights and nobles would stop to talk and laugh 
with him, although he wore nothing but rags of old sail- 
cloth which scarcely covered his great limbs, and all 
might see how fair and strong a man God had made him. 
The cook liked Havelok so much that he bought him 
span-new clothes with shoes and hosen; and when Havelok 
put them on, no man in the kingdom seemed his peer for 
strength and beauty. He was the tallest man in Lincoln, 
and the strongest in England. 

Earl Godrich assembled a Parliament in Lincoln, and 
afterward held games. Strong men and youths came to 
try for mastery at the game of putting the stone. It was 
a mighty stone, the weight of an heifer. He was a stal- 
wart man who could lift it to his knee, and few could stir 
it from the ground. So they strove together, and he who 
put the stone an inch farther than the rest was to be 
made champion. But Havelok, though he had never seen 
the like before, took up the heavy stone, and put it full 
twelve foot beyond the rest ; and after that none would 



3 J 6 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

contend with him. Now this matter being greatly talked 
about, it came to the ears of Earl Grodrich, who bethought 
him — ' Did not Athelwold bid me marry his daughter to 
the strongest man alive ? In truth I will marry her to 
this cook's scullion. That will abase her pride ; and when 
she is wedded to a thrall she will be powerless to injure 
me. That will be better than shutting her up ; better 
than killing her.' So he sent and brought Goldborough 
to Lincoln, and set the bells a-ringing, and pretended 
great joy, for he said, 6 Groldborough, I am going to spouse 
thee to the fairest and stalwartest man living.' But 
Groldborough answered she would never wed with any but 
a king. ' Aye, aye, my girl ; and so thou would'st be 
queen and lady over me ? But thy father made me 
swear to give thee to the strongest man in England, and 
that is Havelok, the cook's scullion ; so lief or loth to- 
morrow thou shalt wed.' Then the Earl sent for Havelok 
and said, ' Master, wilt wive ? ' ' Not I,' said Havelok — 
' for I cannot feed nor clothe a wife. I have neither 
stick nor stem — no house, no cloth, no victuals. The very 
clothes I wear do not belong to me, but to Bertram the 
cook, as I do.' ' So much the better,' said the earl, * but 
thou shalt either wive with her that I shall bring thee, or 
else hang upon a tree. So choose.' Then Havelok said 
he would sooner wive. Earl Grodrich went back to Grold- 
borough and threatened her with burning on a stake un- 
less she yielded to his bidding. So, thinking it Grod's 
will, the maid consented. And on the morrow they were 
wed by the Archbishop of York, who had come down to 
the Parliament, and the earl told money out upon the 
mass-book for her dower. 

Now after he was wed, Havelok wist not what to do, 
for he saw how greatly Earl Grodrich hated him. He 
thought he would go and see Grrim. When he got to 
Grimsby he found that Grim was dead, but his children 
welcomed Havelok and begged him bring his wife thither, 



Havelok. 2>77 

since they bad gold and silver and cattle. And when 
Goldborough came, they made a feast, sparing neither flesh 
nor fowl, wine nor ale. And Grim's sons and daughters 
served Havelok and Groldborough. 

Sorrowfully Groldborough lay down at night, for her 
heart was heavy at thinking she had wedded a thrall. 
But as she fretted she saw a light, very bright like a blaze 
of fire, which came out of Havelok's mouth. And she 
thought ' Of a truth but he must be nobly born.' Then 
she looked on his shoulder, and saw the king-mark, like 
a fair cross of red gold, and at the same time she heard 
an angel say, 

6 Groldborough, leave sorrowing, for Havelok is a king's 
son, and shall be King of England and of Denmark, and 
thou queen.' 

Then was Groldborough glad, and kissed Havelok, who, 
straightway waking, said, ' I have seen a strange dream. I 
dreamed I was on a high hill whence I could see all 
Denmark ; and I thought as I looked that it was all mine. 
Then I was taken up and carried over the salt sea to 
England, and methought I took all the country and shut 
it within my hand.' And Groldborough said, 'What a 
good dream is this ! Eejoice, for it betokeneth that thou 
shalt be King of England and of Denmark. Take now my 
counsel and get Grim's sons to go with thee to Denmark.' 

In the morning Havelok went to the church and prayed 
God speed him in his undertaking. Then he came home 
and found Grim's three sons just going off a-fishing. 
Their names were Eobert the Eed, William Wendut, and 
Hugh Eaven. He told them who he was, how Godard 
had slain his sisters, and delivered him over to Grim to be 
drowned, and how Grim had fled with him to England. 
Then Havelok asked them to go with him to Denmark, 
promising to make them rich men. To this they gladly 
agreed, and having got ready their ship and victualled it, 
they set sail with Havelok and his wife for Denmark. The 



37^ Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

place of their landing was hard by the castle of a Danish 
earl named Ubbe, who had been a faithful friend to King 
Birkabeyn. Havelok went to Earl Ubbe, with a gold ring 
for a present, asking leave to buy and sell goods from town 
to town in that part of the country. Ubbe, beholding 
the tall, broad-shouldered, thick-chested man, so strong 
and cleanly made, thought him more fit for a knight than 
for a pedlar. He bade Havelok bring his wife and come 
and eat with him at his table. So Havelok went to fetch 
G-oldborough, and Eobert the Eed and William Wendut 
led her between them till they came to the castle, where 
Ubbe, with a great company of knights, welcomed them 
gladly. Havelok stood a head taller than any of the 
knights, and when they sat at table Ubbe's wife ate with 
him, and Groldborough with Ubbe. It was a great feast, 
and after the feast Ubbe sent Havelok and his friends to 
Bernard Brown, bidding him take care of them till next 
day. So Bernard received the guests and gave them a 
rich supper. 

Now in the night there came sixty-one thieves to Ber- 
nard's house. Each had a drawn sword and a long knife, 
and they called to Bernard to undo the door. He started 
up and armed himself, and told them to go away. But 
the thieves defied him, and with a great boulder-stone 
brake down the door. Then Havelok, hearing the din, 
rose up, and seizing the bar of the door stood on the 
threshold and threw the door wide open, saying, ' Come in, 
I am ready for you ! ' First came three against him with 
their swords, but Havelok slew these with the door bar at 
a single blow ; the fourth man's crown he brake ; he 
smote the fifth upon the shoulders, the sixth athwart 
the neck, and the seventh on the breast ; so they fell dead. 
Then the rest drew back and began to fling their swords 
like darts at Havelok till they had wounded him in 
twenty places. For all that, in a little while he killed a 
score of the thieves. Then Hugh Eaven waking up 



Havelok. 379 

called Kobert and William Wendut. One seized a staff, 
each of the others a piece of timber big as his thigh, and 
Bernard his axe, and alj three ran out to help Havelok. 
So well Havelok and his fellows laid about them, break- 
ing ribs and arms and shanks, and cracking crowns, that 
not a thief of all the sixty-one was left alive. Next morning 
when Ubbe rode past and saw the sixty-one dead bodies, 
and heard what Havelok had done, he sent and brought 
both him and Groldborough to his own castle, and fetched 
a leech to tend his wounds, and would not hear of his 
going away. For said he, i This man is better than a thou- 
sand knights.' 

Now that same night, after he had gone to bed, Ubbe 
awoke about midnight and saw a great light shining from 
the chamber where Havelok and Groldborough lay. He 
went softly to the door and peeped in to see what it 
meant. They were lying fast asleep and the light was 
streaming from Havelok's mouth. Ubbe went and called 
his knights and they also came in and saw this marvel. 
It was brighter than a hundred burning tapers ; bright 
enough to choose money by. Havelok lay on his left 
side with his back towards them, uncovered to the waist ; 
and they saw the king-mark on his right shoulder sparkle 
like shining gold and carbuncle. Then knew they that it 
was King Birkabeyn's son, and seeing how like he was to 
his father, they wept for joy. Thereupon Havelok awoke, 
and all fell down and did him homage, saying he should 
be their king. On the morrow Ubbe sent far and wide 
and gathered together earl and baron, dreng and thane, 
clerk, knight, and burgess, and told them all the treason 
of Grodard, and how Havelok had been nurtured and 
brought up by Grim in England. Then he showed them 
their king, and the people shouted for joy at having so 
fair and strong a man to rule them. And first Ubbe 
sware fealty to Havelok, and after him the others both 
great and small. And the sheriffs and constables and all 



380 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

that held castles in town or burg came out and promised 
to be faithful to him. Then Ubbe drew his sword and 
dubbed Havelok a knight, and set a crown upon his head 
and made him king. And at the crowning they held 
merry sports — justing with sharp spears, tilting at the 
shield, wrestling, and putting the stone. There were 
harpers and pipers and glee-men with their tabours ; and 
for forty days a feast was held with rich meats in plenty 
and the wine flowed like water. And first the king made 
Robert and William Wendut and Hugh Eaven all barons, 
and gave them land and fee. Then when the feast was 
done, he set out with a thousand knights and five thou- 
sand sergeants to seek for Grodard. Grodard was a-hunting 
with a great company of men, and Robert riding on a good 
steed found him and bade him come to the king. Grodard 
smote him and set on his knights to fight with Robert 
and the king's men. They fought till ten of Grodard's 
men were slain ; the rest began to flee. ' Turn again, 
knights ! ' cried Grodard, 6 1 have fed you and shall feed you 
yet. Forsake me not in such a plight.' So they turned 
about and fought again. But the king's men slew every 
one of them and took Grodard and bound him and brought 
him to Havelok. Then King Havelok summoned all his 
nobles to sit in judgment and say what should be done to 
such a traitor. And they said. ' Let him be dragged to 
the gallows at the mare's tail, and hanged by the heels in 
fetters, with this writing over him, " This is he that reft 
the king out from the land, and the life from the king's 
sisters.'" So Grodard suffered his doom and none pitied 
him. 

Then Havelok gave his sceptre into Earl Ubbe's hand 
to rule Denmark on his behalf, and after that took ship 
and came to Grimsby, where he built a priory for black 
monks to pray evermore for the peace of Grrim's soul. 
But when Earl Grodrich understood that Havelok and his 
wife were come to England, he gathered together a great 



Havelok. 38 1 

army to Lincoln on the 17th of March, and came to 
Grimsby to do battle with Havelok and his knights. It 
was a great battle, wherein more than a thousand knights 
were slain. The field was covered with pools of blood. 
Hugh Eaven and his brothers, Eobert and William, did 
valiantly and slew many earls ; but terrible was Earl 
(rod rich to the Banes, for his sword was swift and deadly 
as the levin fork. Havelok came to him and minding 
him of the oath he sware to Athelwold that Goldborough 
should be queen, bade him yield the land. But Godrich 
defied him, and running forward with his heavy sword 
cut Havelok's shield in two. Then Havelok smote him to 
the earth with a blow upon the helm ; but Goodrich arose 
and wounded him upon the shoulder, and Havelok, smart- 
ing with the cut, ran upon his enemy and hewed off his 
right hand. Then he took Earl Godrich and bound him 
and sent him to the queen. And when the English knew 
that Goldborough was the heir of Athelwold they laid by 
their swords and came and asked pardon of the queen. And 
with one accord they took Earl Godrich and bound him 
to a stake and burned him to ashes for the great outrage 
he had done. 

Then all the English nobles came and sware fealty to 
Havelok, and crowned him king in London. Of Grim's 
two daughters Havelok wedded Gunild the elder to Earl 
Keyner of Chester ; and Levive the younger, fair as a new 
rose blossom opening to the sun, he married to Bertram 
the cook, whom he made Earl of Cornwall in the room of 
Godrich. 

Sixty years reigned Havelok and Goldborough in Eng- 
land, and they had fifteen children, who all became kings 
and queens. All the world spake of the great love that 
was betwixt them twain. Apart, neither knew joy or 
happiness. They grew never weary the one of the other, 
for their love was ever new ; and not a single word of 
anger passed between them all their lives. 



2 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 



BEOWULF. 

Scef and Scyld and Beowulf — these were the god-like 
kings of the Grar-Danes in days of yore. 

Upon the sea and alone came Scef to the land of Scani. 
He came in fashion as a babe, floating in an ark upon the 
waters, and at his head a sheaf of corn. God sent him 
for the comfort of the people because they had no king. 
He tore down the foemen's thrones, and gave the people 
peace and passed away. 

From him proceeded Scyld the Scefling, the strong war- 
prince, wise in counsel, generous ring-giver. When Scyld 
grew old and decrepit, and the time drew near that he 
should go away into the peace of the Lord, he would be 
carried to the sea-shore. Thither with sad hearts his 
people bare him, and laid him in the bosom of a war-ship 
heaped with treasure of gold and costly ornaments, with 
battle-weapons, bills and spears and axes, and the linked 
war-mail. Eich sea-offerings of j ewels and precious things 
they laid upon his breast. High over head they set up a 
golden ensign ; then unfurled the sail to the wind, and 
mournfully gave their king and all his treasures to the 
deep and solemn sea ; to journey none knew whither. 
Upon the sea, and alone, went Scyld from the land of the 
Scani. He went in fashion as a king, floating away in his 
good ship along the track of the swans, his war-weeds and 
his battle-spoils beside him. He gave the people peace 
and passed away. 

From him came Beowulf the Scylding, glorious and 
majestic, strong of hand, the beloved chieftain. He gave 
the people peace and passed away. 



Beowulf. 383 

After the days of the god-like kings, the Danes chose 
Healfdene for their leader He rnled long and well, and 
died in a good old age, and Hrothgar his son reigned in 
his stead. To Hrothgar good fortune and success in war 
were given, so that he overcame his enemies, and made 
the Gar-Danes a powerful and wealthy people. 

Now, in his prosperity, it came into Hrothgar's mind to 
build a great mead-hall in his chief city ; a lordly palace 
wherein his warriors and counsellors might feast, they and 
their children for ever, and be glad because of the riches 
which God had given them. Biggest of all palaces was 
the mead-hall of Hrothgar ; high-arched and fair with 
pinnacles. He named it Heorot, that men might think of 
it as the heart and centre of the realm ; that, banded to- 
gether in friendship at one common banquet table, they 
might talk of measures for the common good. With a 
great feast he opened Heorot the palace, with sound of 
harp and song of Skald, giving gifts of rings and treasure ; 
»so that all the people rejoiced and became of one mind, 
and sware fealty to him. Then Hrothgar's heart was 
lifted up because of Heorot which he had builded. 

But far away in the darkness where dwell the Jotuns 
and Orks and giants which war against God, there abode '">/ 
a mighty evil spirit, a Jotun both terrible and grim called ( 
Grendel, a haunter of the marshes, whose fastnesses were 
dank and fenny places. Grendel saw the lofty palace 
reared, and was filled with jealous anger because the 
people were as one, and because there was no longer any 
discord among them. At night he came to the mead- 
hall, where slept the nobles and thanes after the feast, 
forgetful of sorrow and unmindful of harm ; he seized 
upon thirty men and carried them away to his dwelling- 
place, there to prey upon their carcases. Bitterly 
mourned the Gar-Danes for their brothers when awaking 
in the morning twilight they saw the track of the accursed 
spirit, and knew that mortal strength availed for nought 



JUj - 5L 



384 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

against their enemy. Next night Grrendel came and did 
the like, and so for twelve years thereafter came he often- 
times and snatched the Danes whilst they slumbered, and 
carried them away to slay and tear them, neither for any 
ransom would he be prevailed upon to make peace. The 
houses in the land became empty, because of the coun- 
sellors and warriors that were swept away to the death- 
shade of the Ogre of the misty marshes. But like a shep- 
herd for his flock grieved Hrothgar for the desolation of 
his people. Broken in spirit he sat in the many-coloured 
mead-hall, watching among his vassals through the night ; 
but Grendel touched him not. To right and left of him 
the monster seized strong-hearted men, a helpless prey, 
but passed Hrothgar by. God set his ringer on the king- 
that the Jotun should not harm him. Hrothgar grew 
wearied that he was spared while his dear friends were 
taken ; and when men came to him for counsel, he, the 
wise counsellor, had none to give but sat in silence, his 
head bowed in sorrow on his hands. Vainly the people, 
prayed in the tabernacles to their idols that they would 
send a spirit-slayer down to save them. 

Away to the westward among the people of the Greats 
lived a man, strongest of his race, tall, mighty-handed, 
and clean made. He was a thane, kinsman to Hygelac 
the Greatish chief, and nobly born, being son of Ecgtheow 
the Wsegmunding, a war-prince who wedded with the 
daughter of Hrethel the Great. This man heard of Grren- 
del's deeds, of Hrothgar's sorrow, and the sore distress of 
the Danes, and having sought out fifteen warriors, he 
entered into a new-pitched ship to seek the war-king 
across the sea. Bird-like the vessel's swan-necked prow 
breasted the white sea-foam till the warriors reached the 
windy walls of cliff and the steep mountains of the Danish 
shores. They thanked Grod because the wave-ways had 
been easy to them ; then, sea-wearied, lashed their wide- 
bosomed ship to an anchorage, donned their war-weeds, 



Beowulf. 385 

and came to Heorot, the gold and jewelled house. Brightly 
gleamed tbeir armour and merrily sang the ring-iron of 
their trappings as they marched into the palace ; and 
having leaned their ample shields against the wall, and 
piled their ashen javelins, steel-headed, in a heap, they 
came to where sat Hrothgar, old and bald, among his 
earls. Hrothgar looked upon the Greatish warriors, chief 
of whom Hygelac's servant, the mighty son of Ecgtheow, 
towered tall above the rest, god-like in his shining armour 
and the dazzling war-net of mail woven by the armourer. 
Seeing him, Hrothgar knew that the son of Ecgtheow 
was Beowulf, raised up of Grod to be a champion against 
Grrendel the evil spirit, — Beowulf the mighty-handed one, 
in the gripe of whose fingers was the strength of thirty 
men. And while wonderingly he gave him welcome, 
Beowulf spake, ' Hail, King Hrothgar ! Alone and at 
night I have fought with evil-beings, both Jotuns and 
Nicors, and have overcome ; and now, in order to deliver 
the bright Danes from their peri], have I sailed across the 
sea to undertake battle with Grrendel the Ogre. Ana 
since no weapon may avail to wound the flinty-hided fiend, 
I will lay by my sword and shield, and empty-handed go 
to meet him. I will grapple with him, strength againsc 
strength, till Grod shall doom whether of us two Death 
taketh. If I should be bereft of life, send back to Hygelac 
the war-shroud which Wayland forged to guard my breast, 
but make no corpse-feast for me : bury my body, and mark 
its resting-place, but let the passer-by eat without mourn- 
ing ; fate goeth ever as it must.' 

Hrothgar answered, ' Well know I, my friend Beo- 
wulf, of your bravery and the might that dwelleth in your 
fingers ! B ut very terrible is Grrendel. Full oft my hardy 
warriors, fierce over the ale-cup at night, have promised 
to await the Ogre with the terror of their swords and dare 
his wrath ; but as oft at morning-tide the benched floor 
of the palace has reeked with their blood. But since 

c c 



386 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

your mind is valiant, sit down with us to our evening 
feast, where by old custom we incite each other to a brave 
and careless mind before night set in, and Grrendel come 
to choose his prey.' 

Then were the benches cleared and Beowulf and the 
Greats sate in the mead-hall at the banquet with the Danes, 
Freely flowed the bright sweet liquor from the twisted ale- 
cup borne by the cup-bearer in his office, whilst the Skald 
sang of old deeds of valour. 

Then said Beowulf, ' Full many a man of you hath 
Grendel made to sleep the sleep of the sword, and now 
he looketh for no battle from your hands. But I, a 
Great, who in the old time have slain strange shapes of 
horror in the air or deep down underneath the waves, will 
encounter him, and alone ; unarmed, I will guard this mead- 
hall through the night. Alone with the fiend will I await 
the shining of the morrow's sun on victory, or else sink 
down into death's darkness fast in the Ogre's grasp.' 
Hrothgar, the old-haired king, took comfort at his stead- 
fast intent, and Wealtheow the Queen, so fair and royally 
hung with gold, herself bare forth the mead-cup to Beo- 
wulf, and greeted him with winsome words as champion 
of her people. Beowulf took the cup from Wealtheow's 
hands saying, 'Xo more shall Grendel prey upon the 
javelin-bearing Danes till he has felt the might of my 
fingers.' Happy were the people at his boldness, and 
blithe their joy over the well-served hall-cup. 

Then King Hrothgar would seek his evening rest, for 
the wan shadows of night were already darkening the wel- 
kin. The company arose and greeted man to man, and 
Hrothgar greeted Beowulf and said, ' friend, never 
before did I commit this hall to any man's keeping since 
I might lift a spear. Have now and hold this best of 
palaces. Be wakeful and be valourous, and nothing that 
thou mayest ask shall be too great a prize for victory.' So 



Beowulf. 387 

the king departed with his troop of heroes from the mead- 
hall. 

Beowulf took off his coat of iron mail, loosed the helmet 
from his head, and from his thigh the well-chased sword; 
and having put aside his war-gear wholly, stepped upon 
his bed and laid him down. Around him in the dusk lay 
many well-armed Danes slumbering from weariness. The 
darkness fell, and all the keepers of the palace slept save 
one. Beowulf in a restless mood, naked and weaponless, 
waited for the foe. 

Then in the pale night Grrendel the shadow-walker 
rose up with the mists from the marshes and came to 
Heorot, the pinnacled palace. He tore away the iron bands, 
fire-hardened, wherewith the doors were fastened, and 
trod the many-coloured floor of the sounding hall. Like 
fire the anger flashed from his eyes, lightening the dark- 
ness with a hideous light. Terribly he laughed as he 
gloated on the sleeping Danes and saw the abundant feast 
of human flesh spread out around him. 

Beowulf, the strong Waegmunding, held his breath to 
watch the method of the Ogre's onset. JSTor did the fiend 
delay, for quickly seizing a sleeping warrior he bit him in 
the throat, drank the blood from his veins, and tare his 
limbs and ate the dead man's feet and hands. Then coming 
nearer, Grrendel laid his hands upon the watchful champion. 
Suddenly Beowulf raised himself upon his elbow and 
clutched the Ogre fast ; against the shoulder he fastened on 
the grim Jotun with his hands ; and held him. Never before 
had Grrendel met the gripe of hands so strong. He bent 
himself with all his might against Beowulf and dragged him 
from his bed, and toward the door ; but Beowulf's fingers 
never slackened from their hold : he drew the Ogre back- 
Together they struggled upon the hall pavement till the 
palace rocked and thundered with their battle. Great 
wonder was it that the palace fell not, but it was made 
fast with well-forged iron bands within and without ; yet 

c c 2 



g 



88 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 



many a mead-bench overlaid with twisted gold was torn 
from its place in the furious strife, and the ale spilled on 
the floor. But Grendel found the clutch of his enemy too 
strong ; he could not loose it with all his wrestlings ; and 
he knew that he must seek to flee away and hide himself 
in his marsh dwellings. But Beowulf griped him tight ; 
and when the fiend would drag him down the hall he put 
forth all his strength into his clenched hands. Suddenly 
the Ogre's shoulder rift from neck to waist. The sinews 
burst asunder, the joints gave way, and Beowulf tare the 
shoulder and the shoulder-blade from out his body. So 
Grendel escaped from Beowulf's grasp and in his mortal 
sickness fled to the fens. There Death clutched him and 
he died. 

Then in the morning many warriors gathered to the 
mead-hall ; and Beowulf brought his trophy, Grrendel's 
hand and arm and shoulder, arid hung it high in the 
palace that all might see. So hard were the fingers and 
the stiff nails of the war-hand that no well-proven steel 
would touch them. Hrothgar thanked Grod and Beowulf 
for this deliverance, and having made the broken palace 
strong again with iron bonds and hung it round about 
with tapestry, he held therein a costly feast of rejoicing 
with his warriors and kinsmen, whereat many a mead cup 
was outpoured. To Beowulf he gave rich gifts : a golden 
ensign and a helm, a breastplate and a sword, each wrought 
with twisted work of gold, together with eight horses 
whose housings shone with precious stones. And when 
the lay of the glee-man was sung and the wine flowed, and 
the jocund noise from the mead-benches rose loud, Queen 
Wealtheow went forth under her golden crown and bare 
the royal cup to Beowulf to drink. A ring she gave him 
of rare workmanship all aglow with carven gems, likewise 
sumptuous dresses, rich with broidered gold and needle- 
work of divers colours. 'Be happy and fortunate, my 
lord Beowulf!' she said. 'Enjoy these well-earned gifts, 



Beowulf. 389 

dear warrior, for thou hast cleansed the mead-hall of the 
realm, and for thy prowess fame shall gather to thee, wide 
as the in-rolling sea that comes from all the corners of the 
world to circle round our windy walls.' 

Then AVealtheow and her lord King Hrothgar departed 
to take their evening rest, and Beowulf went to a house 
appointed for him. But the warriors bared the benches, 
spread out their beds and bolsters, set their hard-rimmed 
shields at their heads, and lay down to sleep in the mead- 
hall. In their ringed mail-shirts they laid them down, 
ready for war, as was their custom in house and field ; 
ready, if need should befall their lord. Good was the people. 
So darkness fell in the hall and the Hring-Danes slept, 
nor wot they that any were fated to die. But at mid- 
night Grendel's mother arose from her dwelling in the 
cold streams, from her home in the terrible waters, and 
fiercely grieving for her son's death came and walked the 
beautiful pavement of Heorot. Greedy of revenge she 
clutched a noble, very dear to Hrothgar, and tare him in 
his sleep. Then while the Danes, waking in tumult, were 
yet smitten with the terror of her presence, she seized from 
its hanging-place the well-known arm and shoulder of her 
son, and passed out quickly with the prize. A great cry 
rose in the mead-hall. Beowulf and King Hrothgar 
heard it, and came hastily to Heorot. 

When King Hrothgar knew what had been done, he 
said, ' Beowulf, my friend ; still sorrow for my people 
bindeth me. iEschere, my counsellor and war companion, 
hath been foully torn to death, nor can we tell whose shall 
be the next blood with which this new wolf-hearted fiend 
shall glut herself. Scarce a mile hence is her dwelling- 
place, a stagnant lake within a darksome grove of hoary- 
rinded trees whose snaky roots twine all about the margin, 
shadowing it. A foul black water, whereon fire dwelleth 
at night, a loathely lake wide-shunned of man and beast. 
The hunted stag, driven thither, will rather part from 



390 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

life upon the brink than plunge therein. Darest thou seek 
this place, to battle with the monster and deliver us V 

The son of Ecgtheow the Waegmunding answered, ' Yea, 
I dare. For to avenge a friend is better than to mourn 
for him. Neither can a man hasten nor delay his death- 
hour. Fate waiteth for us all ; and he that goeth forth 
to wreak justice need not trouble about his end, neither 
about what shall be in the days when he no longer lives.' 

Then King Hrothgar gave thanks to the mighty Grod, 
and caused a steed with curled hair to be bitted and led 
forth for Beowulf. With a troop of shield-bearers he ac- 
companied the hero along the narrow path across steep 
stone-cliffs over-hung with mountain trees, till they came 
to the joyless wood and the drear water where Grendel's 
mother dwelt. Snakes and strange sea-dragons basked 
upon the turbid pool, and Nicors lay upon the promon- 
tories. Beowulf blew upon his horn a terrible war-dirge, 
and they sank and hid themselves. Then in his war-mail 
shirt which knew well how to guard his body from the 
clutch of battle, his white helmet, mail-hooded, on his 
head, and in his hand his hilted knife Hrunting, of trusty 
steel blood-hardened, Beowulf plunged into the slimy lake 
and the sea-wave closed above him. Long he swam down- 
ward into the dark abyss before he found the bottom. 
Grendel's mother lay in wait and grappled him in her claws, 
and bore him to her roofed sea-hall beneath the water, 
where gleamed a pale fire-light. Then Beowulf saw the 
mighty sea-woman, and furious, swung his heavy sword 
and brought it down with a crash upon her head. But the 
keen steel failed him in his need, for her hard skull turned 
its biting edge. So angrily flinging from him his twisted 
blade, and trusting wholly to his mighty hand-gripe, he 
caught the wolf-woman by the shoulders and bent her 
backwards to the floor. Fiercely she gave back his grap- 
pling, and wrestled him till from weariness he rolled and 
fell ; then, drawing her brown-edged knife she sought at 



Beowulf. 391 

one blow to avenge her son. But the hard battle-net 
upon his breast hindered the entrance of the knife, and 
God who rules the firmament protected him, so that he 
gat upon his feet again. Then Beowulf saw hanging in 
the sea-hall a huge sword made by giants, a weapon fortu- 
nate in victory, doughty of edge, which noue but he could 
wield. Hard grasped he the war-bill by the hilt, and whirled 
it savagely against the sea-woman's ring-mail in despair of 
life. Furious he struck, and the bone-rings of her neck 
gave way before it; so the blade passed through her doomed 
body, and, war-wearied, her carcase lay lifeless on the floor. 

Long time with patience waited Hrothgar and his 
counsellors, looking into the dark lake where Beowulf 
went down. Xoon-day came, and seeing the water stained 
with blood, they deemed their champion was dead, and 
sorrowfully gat them home. 

But beneath the water was a great marvel. Beowulf 
cut off the sea-woman's head, but so hot and poisonous 
was her blood that the mighty sword which reeked there- 
with melted and burned away, all save the hilt. So 
it wasted like the ice when the sun loosens the frost-chain 
and unwinds the wave-ropes. Then Beowulf swam up- 
wards with his heavy burden, the sea-woman's head and 
the sword-hilt, and having reached the shore he saw the 
lake dry up. By its hair he carried the woman's head, 
awful and glaring, to the mead-hall, and showed the 
wondering Danes the golden sword-hilt wrought in fashion 
as a snake, and marked with Runic characters wherein the 
history of its forging was set forth. Beowulf said, ' Grod 
and my strong hand prospered me and gave me victory. 
Yea, in my strength I have wrested away the sword 
wherewith the giants before the Flood defied the Eternal 
Grod ! I have overcome the enemies of Grod, who have 
battled with Him unsubdued for countless years ! Where- 
fore fear not, King Hrothgar, for thou and thine may 
sleep secure in Heorot which I have cleansed ! ' 



39 2 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

The wise and hoary king, the mingled-haired, gazed 
long in silence on the sword-hilt, reading of the wondrous 
smiths that made it after the fall of the devils. Then he 
spake gently, ' my friend Beowulf, great is thy glory 
and uplifted high, and wondrous are the ways of Grod who 
through the wisdom of His great mind distributeth so 
much strength to one man, making him a refuge-city for 
the peoples. But suffer a kindly word of counsel, dear 
warrior. When all things are subject to a man, when 
the world turneth at his will, he forgetteth that the 
flower of his strength and his glory are but for a little 
while before he leave these poor days and fade away 
forgotten and another come in his place. But the 
great Shepherd of the Heavens liveth, on, and raiseth up 
and putteth down whom He will. Dear friend, beware 
of pride, which groweth up and anon beguileth the 
heart so fast to sleep that the warrior remembereth not 
how Death will overpower him at the last. So gloried I, 
when with spear and sword having freed the Hring- 
Danes from all their enemies under heaven, I built this 
mead-hall in my pride and reckoned not upon an adver- 
sary. But Gfod sent Grrendel many years to trouble me, 
till my pride was humbled, and He brought me a deliverer 
in thee. Wherefore I give Him thanks and pray thee to 
be like-minded, to bear thine honours meekly and to 
choose eternal gains. Gro now with gladness to the feast, 
and to-morrow we will give forth treasure, the dear meed 
of warriors.' 

Grreat joy was there in many-windowed Heorot, and 
when Night covered the land with her dusky helmet the 
warriors laid them down in peace and slept beneath the 
lofty arches, various with gold : no foe came near the 
noble dwelling-place ; for Heorot was fully purged. 

After that, when Beowulf would make ready his vessel 
to cross the sea again to his kinsman Hygelac, lord Of the 
Greats, King Hrothgar loaded him with a multitude of 



Beowulf. 393 

gifts of gold and rings and battle-harness, and made a 
treaty with him that there shonld be peace for ever be- 
twixt the Grar-Danes and the Greats, and that the treasures 
of both peoples should be held in common. So Beowulf 
and his companions entered their sharp-keeled ship and 
sailed to their home across the wide sea-plain, the sea- 
gull's path. Hygelac welcomed him returning spoil- 
laden from the game of war, and Beowulf shared his 
treasures with his friends and kinsfolk. Yet was it for a 
long time a shame and reproach to the Greats that they 
held the might and courage of Beowulf in but little 
esteem, neither made they him a ruler and a chief among 
them. During many years the son of Ecgtheow grew old 
in good and quiet deeds ; for he, the fierce in war, was 
gentle of mind, and meekly held the might and strength 
wherewith he was indued of Grod. JBut the Swedes came 
up to battle against the Greats, and in his time of need 
Hygelac went to his treasure-house and brought forth 
Nagling, the wound-hardened sword, old and grey-spotted, 
of Hrethel, Beowulf's grandfather, and gave it to the 
strong Waegmunding, and made him captain over seven- 
thousand warriors and gave him a royal seat. So Beowulf 
went to battle and drave out the enemy. But Hygelac 
fell in the war-tumult. Thereby the broad kingdom came 
by inheritance into Beowulf's hand ; and he was made 
king and held it fifty years with a strong arm against all 
foes, ruling wisely as a prudent guardian of his people. 

Now, in those days, a terrible flaming dragon began to 
rule in the dark nights, a fire-drake which long had abode 
in the cavern of a rocky cliff hard by the sea, along a 
difficult and stony path unknown to men. All his cavern 
was full of ancient treasure in rings and vases and golden 
ornaments, which he had secretly stolen during a space of 
three hundred years. Folk missed their gold and jewels but 
knew not who the robber was, until one night a wayfarer 
by chance wandered into the cave and saw the precious 



394 Popular Romances of tlie Middle Ages. 

hoard and the dragon slumbering by it, and snatched a 
golden drinking-cup from the glittering heap and fled. 
Hot burned the dragon's anger when, awaking, he missed 
the gold drinking-cup, and saw that his secret treasure- 
hoard was known to men. He rose upon his flaming 
wings each night and sped to and fro seeking the man 
who had done him this evil ; and where he went he con- 
sumed houses and people and scorched the land into 
a wilderness. The waves of fire reached the palace and 
destroyed that best of buildings, the fastness of the Greats, 
and the people trembled for fear of the terrible flyer of 
the air. Dark thoughts came into Beowulf's mind, inso- 
much that he was even angry with the Almighty because 
of the plague which visited the people, and in his bitter- 
ness he spake hard things against the Eternal Lord such 
as befitted him not. Then he commanded to make a 
variegated shield of iron, strong and well-tempered, to 
withstand the fire-breath of the adversary, and having 
put on his war-mail, he called together his warriors and 
said, ' Many a battle, my comrades, have I dared from 
my youth up ; many a warrior's soul have I loosed from its 
shattered house of bone with my biting war-bill. Now 
for the greater glory of my age will I seek this flaming 
war-fly alone. Be it yours to abide afar off on the hill and 
: watch the combat, but take no part therein. The glory 
and the treasure and the war are mine alone. Would I 
might proudly grapple with nothing but my naked hands 
against this wretch, as of old I did with G-rendel ! But 
since the war-fire is so fierce and poisonous, I take my 
shield and byrnie and my sword. Not a footstep will I 
flee till Fate make up her reckoning betwixt us.' 

Then arose the famous warrior, stoutly trusting in his 
strength, and came to the hoary stone-cliff whence waves 
of fire flowed like a rushing mountain torrent. Boldly 
and with angry words the lord of the Greats defied the 
fire-drake to come out and face the thirsty steel of Nagling, 
his sharp-edged blade. 



Beowulf. 395 

Quickly the winged worm answered to his challenge. 
Bending itself together for the contest, and darting furious 
flames, it closed in battle with the haughty warrior ; and 
they who beheld afar off saw nothing but the fire which 
wrapped the fighters round. The good shield guarded 
Beowulf's body less truly than he had hoped from the 
beams of fire. Nagiing, the hard-edged, bit less strongly 
than the champion, who knew so well to swing the war- 
bill, had need in his extremity : the keen sword deceived 
him as a blade of such old goodness ought not to have 
done. The fierce treasure-keeper, boiling with fury, 
flooded the plain in a sea of fire, so that the nobles which 
watched the combat turned and fled to the wood for safety. 
All turned and fled save one. Wiglaf, son of Weohstan, 
a dear shield-warrior, only kinsman of Beowulf, saw his 
lord suffer in the bitter strife, and his heart could no 
longer refrain. He seized his shield of yellow linden- 
wood, and his old tried sword. ' Comrades,' he cried, 
' forget ye all the gifts of rings and treasure we have re- 
ceived from Beowulf's hands at the daily out-pouring of 
the mead ? Forget ye his past benefits and his present 
need ? ' Then he ran through the deadly smoke and the 
clinging fire to succour his dear lord. The flame burnt 
up his linden shield, but Wiglaf ran boldly underneath 
the shield of his master and fought at his side. Then 
Beowulf, jealous for his single fame, though heat-oppressed 
and wearied, swung his great war-sword and drave it down 
mightily upon the head of the fire-drake. But Nagiing 
failed him, and brake in sunder with the blow ; for Beo- 
wulf's hand was too strong and overpowered every sword- 
blade forged by mortal man, neither was it granted to him 
at any time that the edges of the smith's iron might avail 
him in war. Wildly he spurned the treacherous sword-hilt 
from him, and furious rushed upon the fiery worm and 
clutched it by the neck in the terrible gripe of his naked 
hands. There upon the plain he throttled it, while the 



396 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

burning life-blood of the fire-drake boiled up from its 
throat and set his hands aflame. Yet loosened he never 
his gripe, but held the twining worm till Wiglaf carved 
its body in twain with his sword. Then Beowulf flung 
the carcase to the earth and the fire ceased. 

But the fiery blood was on his hands ; and they began 
to burn and swell ; and he felt the poison course through 
all his veins and boil up in his breast. Then Beowulf 
knew that he drew nigh the end of this poor life ; and 
whilst Wiglaf cooled his wounds with water, he said, 
6 Fifty years have I shepherded my people, and though so 
strong no king dared greet me with his warriors, I have 
only fought to hold my own. Neither have I made war 
on any man for lust of gain or conquest, nor oppressed 
the weak, nor sworn unjustly. Wherefore I fear not that 
the Kuler of men will reproach me with the doings of my 
life. But now, dear Wiglaf, go quickly to the cavern and 
bring me of the gold and many-coloured gems that I may 
look thereon before I die ; that so, feasting my eyes with 
the treasure I have purchased for my people, I may more 
gently yield up my life.' 

So Wiglaf hastened and came to the fire-drake's treasure- 
house ; and lo ! his eyes were dazzled with the glittering 
gold, the dishes, cups, and bracelets that were heaped 
within the cave and lightened it. Then he laded himself 
with gem-bright treasure, one trinket of each kind, and a 
lofty golden ensign, the greatest wonder made with hands, 
and a war-bill jewelled, shod with brass and iron-edged ; 
and came again to his master. Fast ebbed the chieftain's 
life upon the sward. Senseless he lay, and very near his 
end. Wiglaf cooled his fiery veins with sprinkled water, 
and the lord of the Greats opened his eyes and gazed upon 
the golden cups and variegated gems. He said, 'Now 
give I thanks to the Lord of All, the King of Grlory, for 
the precious riches which mine eyes behold; nor do I 
grudge to have spent my life to purchase such a treasure 



Beowulf. 397 

for my people. Bid them not to weep my death, but 
rather glory in my life. Let them make a funeral tire 
wherein to give my body to the hot war-waves ; and let 
them build for my memorial a lofty mound to sea- wards 
on the windy promontory of Hronesnaes, that the sea- 
sailors as they journey on the deep may see it from afar 
and say, " That is Beowulf's cairn." ' 

Then from his neck he lifted his golden chain, and 
took his helmet and his byrnie and his ring and gave 
them to Wiglaf, saying, ' Dear friend, thou art the last of 
all our kin, the last of the Waegmundings. Fate hath 
long swept my sons away to death. I must go and seek 
them ! ' So parted his soul from his breast. 

Presently came the nobles which before had fled, and 
found Wiglaf washing the body of their prince with water 
and sorrowfully calling upon him by name. Bitterly 
spake Wiglaf to them. ' Brave warriors ! Now that the 
war is over, have you in truth summoned courage up to 
come and share the treasure ? You, who forsook the trea- 
sure-earner in his need ; forsook in his extremity the high 
prince who gave you the very war-trappings wherein you 
stand ? I tell you nay. You shall see the treasure with 
your eyes and hold it in your hands, but it shall not profit 
you. The Swedes beyond the sea who came against 
Hygelac and slew him, the same that Beowulf overcame 
and drave out, when they learn that our strong warrior 
has passed into his rest, will come again and snatch the 
land from your weak holding and carry you away into 
bondage, and seize the treasure. Let it be his who won 
it ! Safer will he guard it in his sleep than you with 
feeble war-blades and weak javelins. Let the lord of the 
Greats slumber with it in the cairn which we shall build 
for him ; so shall men fear to touch the treasure as they 
would to snatch a sleeping lion's prey.' 

So with one accord they bare the hoary warrior to 
Hronesnaes, and from the cavern drew out the twisted 
gold in countless waggon-loads. 



398 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Then for Beowulf did the people of the Greats prepare 
a funeral pile, strong, hung round with helmets, with 
war-boards and bright byrnies; and weeping they laid 
their lord upon the wood. Eight chosen warriors walked 
with Wiglaf round the pile with torches to kindle the 
bale-fire. The wood-smoke rose aloft, the noise of mourn- 
ing of a people sorry of mood mingled with the crackling 
of the blaze, and the wind blew on the war-bier till the 
flames consumed the bone-house of the mighty-handed 
chief. 

Then the Greats wrought a great cairn beside the sea. 
It was high and broad, and easy to behold by the sailors 
over the waves. Ten days they wrought thereat, and 
built up the beacon vast and tall, and laid the ashes of 
their lord therein. Then they brought the rings and 
gems and ornaments and put them in the mound. No 
earl ever wore the twisted gold for a memorial, no maiden 
was made glad with the golden rings upon her neck, but 
the treasure sleeps in the earth with him who won it ! 
Twelve nobles rode about the mound calling to mind 
their king in speech and song ; praising his valour ; even 
as it is fit that a man should extol his lord and love him 
in his soul after his body has become valueless and only 
his deeds remain. 

So mourned the people of the Greats for their dear lord. 
And they said of him that he was the mildest and gentlest 
of all the kings of the world, the most gracious to his 
people and the most jealous for their glory. 






INDEX. 



AAC 

Aachen, 321 et seq. 

Accolon, 20, 92, 101, 102 et seq. 

Achar, 359 

Achilleus, 17, 45, 58 

Adam Bell, 16 

Adonis, 37, 46 

JEschere, 388 

JEscirigas of Kent, chronology of 

the, 6 
^Esir, ship of the, 48 
Aethlios, 10 
Agamemnon, 75 
Aglava]e, 154 
Agni, 18 

Agravaine, 215 et seq. 
Ahi, 56, 78 

Ahmed and the Peri Banou, 59 
Aigeus, 17 
Aigyptos, 14 
Aineias, story of, 2 
Akrisios, 58 

Alice, the Fair Pilgrim, 37, 156 
Alisander, 37, 155 et seq. 
Alkinoos, palace of, 79 
Alkmene, 16 

Allah-ud-deen, ring of, 36 
— sword of, 42 
Allegorical visions, 51, 181,183, 188, 

190 
Allegories, 179 
Alory, 351 
Alpheios, 38, 58 
Alroy, forest of, 107 
Al-sirat, bridge of, 95 
Amaltheia, horn of, 47, 49 
Amant, 153 
Ambrose, 61 
Amiraunt, 313 



ART 

Amlethns, 73 
Amphitryon, 16 
Amphion, 14, 38, 76 
Amulius, 57, 71 
Amys of the Mountain, 310 
Andred, 142, 150 
Anelaphus, 73 
Anglides, 155 
Angys the Dane, 234 
Animism, 48 
Anlaf, 73, 315 
Anlaf-cwiran, 73 
Annowre, 148 
Anseis, 322 
Ansirus, 156 
Anteros, 14 
Anvil and sword, 16 
Apples, golden, 12 
Aragus, 318 
Arbor vitse, 49 
Arethousa, 58, 67 
Argentile, 72 
Argo, 26, 48 
Argos the dog, 62 
Aries the cowherd, 22, 97 
Aristhanas, 37, 71 
Aristomenes, 49 
Arjuna, 14 

Artemis, 14, 24, 75, 76 
Arthur, arguments for the historical 
character of, 2 

— birth and early years of, 16, 82 

— character of, 56 

— crowning of, at Rome, 112 

— the Emperor, 110 

— expedition of, against the Roman 
Emperor, 2 

— the giant-slayer, 111 



4-00 



Index. 



ART 



BEA 



Arthur, grave of, alleged discovery of 
the, 3 

— and Guenevere, 154 

— supposed historical residuum in 
the story of, 4 

— imprisonment of, 101 

— loves of, 85 

— and Mordred, 56 et seq. 

— and Olger, 361 

— <pi\oyvv7)s, 18 

— story, origin of the, 7 

— subordination of, 22, 44, 46. 64, 
89, 152, 221 

— sword of, 17, 19, 44, 82, 86, 102 

— treachery of Lancelot to, 54 

— and Tristram, 152, 160 

— twelve victories of, o 

— visions of, 56, 226 

— wanderings of, 27 

— wedding of, 96 et seq. 

— and the Weird Sisters, 47 
Arundel, 62, 274, 282, 296 
Ascapard, 62, 284, 290, 291 
Ashera, 49 

Asklepios, 37, 71 

Asterodia, 10 

Astolat, the Fair Maid of, 47, 205 

et seq. 
Astrabakos, 60 
Astyages, 58 
Asrins, the, 13, 23 
Atalanta, 34 
Athelstan, 301 
Athelwold, 308 
Athene, ship of, 49 

— Tritonis, 58 
Attabiscar, song of, 66 
Aubry, 309 

Aulis, 76 

Aurentil, 76 

Aurilisbrosias, 234, 240 

Avalon, or Avilion, Vale of, 58, 69, 

229, 361 
Azidahaka, 56 



B 

Baal, altar of, 49 

Badon, Mount, siege of, 5, 

Bagdemagus, 100, 178 

Baldur, 20 

Baldwin, 83, 111, 155 

— son of Ganelon, 327 



Baldwin, son of Olger, 355 

Baligant, 341 

Balin and Balan. 21, 22, 45, 55 et 

seq., 115 
Ban, 84 
Barbarossa, 59 
Barham Down, battle of, 226 
Barnard. 314 
Basant, 324 
Baseborn boy, the. (See Boots and 

Beggars.) 
Basil, 324 

Bedegraine, Castle of, 85 
Bedivere, Sir, 11. 227 
Beggars in Mythology, 21, 62, 6o, 

71, 89, 371 
Beliagog, 262 
Bellerophon, 43, 62, 276 
Belleus, 117 
Bellisande, 349 
Bendelaine, 132 
Benoist, 356 

Beowulf, 28, 47, 73, 380 et seq. 
Berchta, 12 
Beranger, 332 
Bernard, 204 
Bernard Brown, 377 
Bertram, 374 
Berwick. 223 
Bevis of Hamtoun, 46, 61 et seq., 

268 et seq. 
Bheki, 63 

Bifrdst, bridge of, 95 
Big Bird Dan, 42 
Birkabeyn, 71, 370 
Blaise, 85, 240 
Blamor de Ganis, 140 
Blancandrin, 320 et seq. 
Blancheflor, 245. 300 
Bleeding spear, the. 199 
Bliant, 169 
j Blood, the tribute of, 23, 195 
Boabdil, 59 
Boar, the, 273 

— the wound of the, 46, 169 
Boniface, 275, 283 

Boots, 21, 29, 32, 71, 73, 75, 83, 86, 
89, 118. 145, 231, 269 

— of buffalo leather, 33 
Borre, 85 

Bors, 23, 50, 51, 84, 166, 206, 231 

— temptation of, 190 
Brademond, 273 



Index. 



401 



BRA 



DRA. 



Bradwin, 283 

Bran, horn of, 46 

Branquemond, 359 

Breidablick, 22 

Brengwaine, 140 et seq., 252 et seq. 

Brennor, 141, 145 

Briar-rose, 11, 34 

Briseis, 65 

Broceliande, 243 

Broiefort, 70 

Bruhier, 358 

Bryant of Cornwall, 294 

Brynhild, 34, 41 et seq. 



Cacus. 78 

Caerleon, 84 

Camelot, 88 

Canados, 263 

Canterbury, bishop of, 226, 231 

Carados, 114 

Caraheu, 350 et seq. 

Carbonek, 182 

Carlisle, bishop of, 221 

Cart, knight of the, 211 

Carteloise, 195 

Castor, 23, 170 

Ceres, 12 

Ceridwen, 46 

Chandragupta, 8 

Chapel, Perilous, 116 

Charles the Great, 320 et seq. 

Chariot, 353 

Cheapside, Bevis in, 63, 294 

Children, the fatal, 36 
— slaughter of the, 19 

Chochilaichus, 73 

Chronology, artificial, 5, 6 

Chrysaor, 44 

Chryseis, 73 

Cinderella, 21, 32, 71 

Clarice, 358 

Claudas, 85 

Cloudland, history of, 7 

Colbrand, 315 

Colgrevance, 192, 216 

Conelaphus, 73 

Conelocke, 73 

Constantine, 111 

Constaunce, 234 

Corbin, the Maid of, 164 

Correlative deities, 13. 14. 23 



Corsuble, 350 

Courtain, 354 

Crux salutifera, 49 

Cuaran, 73 

Curan, 73 

Cycles, mythical, in the Arthur storv, 

31 
Cycle, I., Arthur, 31 

— II., Balin, 31 

— III., Lancelot, 31 et seq. 

— IV., Gareth, 31 et seq. 

— V., Tristram, 36 et seq. 

Cyrus, the historical and mythical, 
8, 15, 16, 21, 32, 37 



Dahana, 58 
Danias, 101 
Dame of the Fine Green Kirtle, 

story of the, 28 
Danae, 35 
Danaos, 14 
Dannemont, 350 
Daphne, 58 

Darkness, myths of the, 57, 58 
— snake of, 227 
David, sword of, 195 
Dawn, myths of the, 10, 17, 45, 56 

Day and night, myths of the, 13, 14 

Death, 45 

Deianeira, 40 

De la Eowse, Duke, 133 

Delectable Isle, the. 47, 159 

Delos, 11, 16, 22,29, 58 

Demeter, 12, 49 

Devil's dam, 78, 388 

Dew, myths of the, 10, 19, 58 

Didier of Lombardy, 357 

Diktynna, 18 

Dimilioc, 81 

Dinadan, 151, 155, 158 

Dionysos, 29, 37 

Dioskouroi, 14, 23 

Divoun, 268, 286, 289 

Dolorous Gard, 223 

— stroke, 21, 23, 93 
Dornroschen, 11, 34 
Dragon-slayers, the, 38, 62, 63. 78, 

164, 285, 307, 312, 394 
Dragons and streams, 60, 64, 238 - 

— of Cola and Calabria, the, 285 
Drakon, 3 



D D 



402 Index. 



DEO 

Drought, myths of the, 13 
Dumb Maiden, the, 154 
Dummling, 29 
Durendal, 17, 67, 332 
Dwarfs, 12 



GEO 



E 



Earth, 26 
Ecgtheow, 383 
Ector, 51, 82, 149, 232 
Edenhall, luck of, 49 
Edgar, 289 

Eginhard on the death of Eoland, 6 
Eigil, 76 

Elaine, the Eair Maid of Astolat, 
42, 205 et seq. 

— the mother of Galahad, 25, 42, 
52, 165, 198 

— the wife of Ban, 99 
Eleusis, 11 
Elf-child, the, 236 
Eliazar, 199 

Eliot, 155 

Elizabeth, 135 

Endymion, 10, 58, 59 

Engeler of Gascoigny, 334 

Eos, 45, 65 

Ephialtes, 75 

Epimenides, 59 

Epimetheus, 14 

Ercildoune, Thomas of, 39, 59 

Erl King, the, 38 

Ermonie, 245 

Ermyn, 271, 293 

Ernis, 305 

Eros, 14 

Eteokles, 14 

Ethel, 73 

Ethiopians, table of the, 26, 49 

Ettard, 108 

Etymology, guidance of, in the 

comparison and interpretation of 

myths, 10-12 
Euemerism, 4 
Eurydike, 74 
Euryphassa, 22 
Eurysthenes, 14, 68, 75 
Eve, spindles of, 194 
Excalibur, 20, 58, 102, 105, 112, 

228 



Fafnir, 64, 78 

Eairfme, 22, 71 

Fair Gruagach, 28 

Fair Rosamund, 3 

Faith, ship of, 47, 194 

Faithful John, 38 

Faldrun, 336 

Fancy, source of, 8 

Faramond, 347 

Fatal Children, 21, 36,62,68,70,135 

— Sisters, 30, 47, 107, 229 
Feinne, history of the, 61 
Felice, 65, 297 et seq. 

Five Kings, defeat of the, 100 
Florentin, 261 
Florentine, 284, 311 
Fool, the Great, 71 
Fools, in mythology, 21 
Forgetfulness, cup of, 69 
Fortager, 234 et seq. 

— Castle of, 236 
Frithjof Saga, 38 

Frog Sun, Bheki, the, 63 



Gahalatine, 114 
Gaheris, 114, 219 
Gaire, 304 
Galagas, 100 

Galahad, 21, 31, 46, 47, 51 et seq., 
165, 173 et seq. 

— and Lancelot, 196 

— son of Brennor, 141 

— well of, 199 
Ganelon, 323. et seq. 
Ganzblick, 22 

Gareth, 32, 63, 117 et seq., 219 
Garlon, 23, 93 
Gaultier, 337 

Gawaine, 21, 29, 31, 51, 97, 106, 218 
et seq., 224 

— death of, 226 

— vow of, 177, 219 

— wounding of, 224 
Geats, 383 

Geoffrey of Anjou, 322 

— Abbot of St. Faron de Meaux, 
364 

Geography, mythical, 84 



Index. 



403 



GER 



HER 



Geraint, 2 

GTerairai, 26, 50 

G-erard, 323 

G-erhardin, 263 et seq. 

G-erin, 323 

Giant who had no heart in his body, 

the, 13, 61 
Giant-slayers, 63, 115,281 
Gilbert, 117 
Glass Coffin, 62 
Glauke, 40 

Glaukos, 10, 14, 35, 45 
Glenkundie, 38 
Glorian, 347 
Gloriande, 353 
Godard, 37, 71, 370 
Godfrey, 347 et seq. 
Godrich, 71, 369 
Gold Child, the, 32, 33 
Goldborough, 71, 368 et seq. 
Gorgons, 30 
Gorlois, 16, 81 

Gothic Princess, story of the, 60 
Graiai, 30 
Grail, the, 49, 165 
Gram, the sword, 17, 20 
Grander, 280 
Graurock, 77 

Green Lawns, Knight of the, 121 
Grendel, 78, 382 et seq. 

— mother of, 388 

Grettir, exploits of, 5, 14, 28,. 33, 43 

— shortness of, 32 
Grey frock, 77 

Griffin, story of the old, 60 

Griflet, 100 

Grim, the fisherman, 37, 71, 371 et 

seq. 
Gringamore, 127 
Gouvernail, 250 
Gudrun, 42 
Gnenevere, 24, 31, 36, 52, 96, 167, 

202 et seq. 

— and Lancelot, 202 et seq., 230 

— and the lion, 146 

— crnelty and sensuality of, 25, 41, 
52 et seq., 213 

— dower of, 25, 96 
Guichard, 303 
Guise, 332 
Gunild, 380 
Gunnar, 41 
Gunter, 302 



Gunthram, 63 
Gurmoise, 309 
Guy of Hamtoun, 268 

— of Warwick, 61, 297 et seq. 

— son of Bevis, 295 
Gyges, ring of, 36 



Hacon Grizzlebeard, 72 
Hades, 10, 56 

— cap of, 23 
Hagen, 20 
Haltclere, 336 
Halvor, 32 
Hameln, piper of, 38 
Hamlet, 32, 74, 14 
Hanelocke, 73 
Harold, 70 
Harpagos, 37, 71 
Harp-i-chruti, 49 

Havelok, 22, 28, 32, 37, 70 et seq., 

371 et seq. 
Healer, Arthur the, 46, 

— Isolte, or Ysonde, the, 40, 265 

— Lancelot, the, 46, 116 

— Oinone, the, 40 
Healfdene, 382 
Hedge of spears, the, 34 
Hekate, 10 

Hektor, 20, 45 
Helfled. 371 

Helgi Hundingsbana, 24, 69 
Helgis, the, 28, 59 
Helen, 24, 41, 53, 54 
Helene Dendritis, 75 
Helios, 10, 14 
Hellawes, 116 

Henry II. and the grave of Arthur, 3 
Heorot, 382 
Hephaistos, 20 

Herakles, 14, 26, 38, 40, 42, 56, 58, 
68 

— expedition of, against Ilion, 2 

— madness of, 44 

— poisoned arrows of, 40 

— sleep of, 1 1 

— twelve labours of, 5 

Heraud of Ardennes, 297, 303, 307 
Herb, the holy, 100 
Hermanec, 46, 159 
Hermes, 38, 76 

— rod of, 49 
i>2 



404 



Index. 



HER 



LAD 



Heroes, bondage of, 74 

— vulnerable only in one spot, 20, 
77, 337 

Hervise, 100 
Hierodouloi, 26, 50 
Higelac, 73, 383, 391 
Hilda, 12, 67, 340 et seq. 
Hjarrandi, 71 
Hjordis, 20 
Holda, 12, 67 
Holger Danske, 68 
Holy Coat of Treves, 77 

— Grail, the, 26, 165, 168 

Horn, the magic, 26, 46, 143, 330 et 

seq. 
Horse, inchanted, 30, 360 
Horselberg and Ercildoune, 59 
House in the wood, 12 
Howel, 135, 144 
Hrethel, 383, 392 
Hrothgar, 382 
Hruodland, 6 
Hrunting, 389 
Hubert, 364 
HughKaven, 376 
Hugo, 302 
Hunding, 59 
Huon of Bordeaux, 26 
Huron, myths, 13 
Hygelac. (See Higelac.) 
Hypnos, 10 



Iamos, 60 

Iasion, 12 

Iduna, 11, 64 

Igerne, 16, 81 

Ikaros, 75 

Iliad, 55 

Ilion, myth, of, 4, 45 

Ill-tempered Princess, the, 1 2 

Illugi, 14 

Imagination, power of the human, 

Incubi, 60 

Indra, 18, 29, 58, 78 

Io, 38 

Iokaste, 18 

Iolaos, 11 

Iole, 38 

Iosca, 13 

Ioskeha, 13 

Iphigeneia, 24, 47 



Iphikles, 14 

Ironside, 129 

Iron-stone, 62 

Isis, ship of, 26, 49 

Isolte (Ysonde) the Fair, 25, 36, 43 

et seq., 157, 251 et seq., 261 
— (Ysonde) of the White Hands, 

42, 144 et seq. t 261 
Ixion, 13, 30 



Jeffrey of Monmouth, 16 

Jonas, 313 

Joseph of Arimathea, 50, 199 

— son of Jacob, divining cup of, 49 

Josian, 63, 271, 290 

Jotuns, 382 

Joyous Gard, 157, 160, 220 et seq. 

Joyous Isle, 171 

Jung Frau Maleen, 12 



Kalinak, 56 
Kalypso, 59 
Kamsa, 19 

Karl the Great, 59, 348 
Kay, 32, 82, 100, 115 
Kehydius, 148 et seq., 163 
Kephalos, 10,18, 58 
King of Ireland, 136, 140 

— of the Lake, 100 
Kinkenadon, Castle of, 117, 134 
Kleopatra, 38, 65 
Knapsack, Hat, and Horn, 33 
Knight, the best in the world, 34, 

95, 103, 164, 165, 174, 178 

— of the Ill-shapen Coat, 33, 145 
et seq. 

— of the Eed Lawns, 34 
Knights who fail, the, 34, 125 
Koronis, 38 

Kreon, 40 

Krishna, 14, 18, 41, 56 

Kyklops, 17 



Lad who knew not how to shiver, 

the, 32 
Lady of the Lake, 20, 87, 90, 103, 

109, 204 



Index. 



405 



LAI 



Laios, 18, 57 

Lamorak, 26, 87, 145, 153, 159 
Lancelot, 21, 24, 28, 34, 46, 51, 99, 
112, 230, 232 

— the best knight in the world, 34 

— falsehood of, 25 

— healing power of, 214 

— humiliation of, 189 

— madness of, 167 

— and Olger, 361 

— sensuality of, 31 

— and Tristram, 152 
Lanceor, 90 

Lappenberg, arguments of, for the 
historical existence of Arthur, 2 

Latmos, 58 

Laurel, 134 

Lavaine, 205, 215 

Lavinium, Sow of, 2 

Leodegrance, 96 

Light and darkness, myths of, 14, 15 

Linet, 34, 35, 123 

Lingard, Dr., on the myth of Arthur, 
5 

Lionel, 23, 112 et seq., 190 et seq., 
220 

Li ones, 123 et seq. 

Loathly Lady, 63, 291 

Lodbrog, Eagnar, 56 

Logedas, Eajah, 62 

Loki, 11 

Lombard, Earl, 302 

Lonazep, Castle of, 159 

Loret, 305 

Lorraine, Duke of, 309 et seq. 

Lotos, 26, 49 

Love-drink, 141, 252 

Lovers of the Maidens, 18, 39, 41 

Lucan, 57, 227 

Luck of Edenhall, 26 

Luxman, 14 

Lykia, 10, 22, 45 

Lykourgos, 3 

M 

Macduff, 37 

Madhu, 19 

Madness of Herakles, 44 

— of Lancelot, 44, 167 

— of Tristram, 43, 149 
Mador of the Grate, 114, 203 
Maidens, Castle of the, 179 



MTT 

Maidens, Lovers of the, 18, 39, 41 

Maira, 75 

Malgrin, 156 

Manassen, 105 

Marganices, 336 

Marhaus, 29, 30, 39, 106, 109, 136 et 

seq. 
Mark of Cornwall, 26, 37, 38, 41, 

91, 136 et seq., 153, 247 et seq., 

258 
Marsilius, 320 et seq. 
Maui-ice of Mounclere, 288 
Medeia, robe of, 28, 40 67 
Meleagros, 38, 45, 65, 68, 362 
Meliagrance, 25, 209 et seq. 
Melias, 57, 178 
Meliodas, 135 
Meliora, 347 
Meliot, 117 
Memnon, 45, 55 
Menelaos, 32, 54 
Meriadok, 256 
Miles, 291 
Milo, 287 
Mimir, well of, 17 
Minos, 18 
Mirandoise, 20 
Mitra, 14 
Modrain, 198 
Moirai, 30, 68 
Mombraunt, 279 
Moon, myths of the, 10 
Moradin, 359 
Morage, 271 
Moraunt, 249 
Mordred, 18, 57, 88, 114, 215 et seq. 

— and Guenevere, 225 

— death of, 228 
Morgadour, 305 
Morgan, 245 

Morgan le Fay, 20, 46, 69, 92, 103 
et seq., 143, 151, 156, 230, 347 et 
seq. 

Morglay, 17, 273 

Morloise, 195 

Mother, the mourning, 1 1 

Moyne, 234 

Moysant, 359 

Murdered, and risen gods and heroes, 
24 

Myth and history, 15 

Myths, Aryan and non-Aryan, 8 

— comparison of, 7, 13 



406 



Index. 



MTT 



PER 



Myths, classification of, 14 

— etymological explanation of, 10 

— historical residuum in, 65 

— modification of, 49, 51 

— origin of, 8 

— repetition of, 21, 27, 44 

— of savage tribes, 9 

— of the darkness, 57, 58 

— of the dawn, 10, 17, 45, 56 

day and night, 13, 14, 45 

— dew, 10, 19, 58 

drought, 1 3 

moon, 10 

spring, 11 

sun, 10, 28, 48, 65, 70 

— winter, 11 

Mythical cycles, 31 

— heroes, madness of, 149 

subordination of, 75, 78, 118 

et seq. 
temptation of, 1 82 et seq. 

— names, 76 

N 
Nabon, 145 
Nacien, 189 
Nagling, 392 
Names, mythical, 10 
Naraka, 19 
Narkissos (narcissus), the stupefying 

plant, 12, 59 
Nature myths, 30 
Naymes, 324 et seq. 
Neleus, 14 
Nennius, 61 
Nessos, 40, 78 
Nicors. 384 
Niflungs, 42 
Night, myths of the, 59 
Nigramous, Castle, 116 
Nimue, 98, 148, 230 
Niniame (or Nimue), 243 
Nix of the Mill Pond, 12 
Norns, 30 
Nuns, 26, 50 

O 

Oberon, 26, 361 

— horn of, 47, 50 
Ocresia, 71 
Odin, 16, 17 

Odysseus, 21, 32, 38, 46, 58, 62,65,70 



Oidipous, 8, 16, 18 

Oinone, 40, 45 

Old Griffin, story of the, 60 

Old Soldier, storv of the, 65 

Olger the Dane, 28, 37. 62, 67 et 

330 et seq., 347 et seq. 
Oliver, 322 et seq. 
Omphale, 26 
One-eyed gods, 17 
One-handed, gods, 17 
Ontzlake, 101 
Ophelia, 75 
Orendil, 70, 76 
Orkney, King of, 92 
— Queen of, 18, 85, 130 
Orpheus 38, 56, 76 
Ortygia, 11, 38 
Osile, 308 

Otho of Pavia, 300, 302, 310 
Otos, 75 

Ottawa myths, 13 
Ovand, 350 
Oygel, 76 



Palamedes, 42, 47, 137, 158 et seq., 

173 
Palestina, 347 
Pan, 38, 76 
Panch Phul Eanee, 35 
Panis, the, 45, 54, 78 
Papillon, 360 
Parallelisms of the Lancelot and 

Tristram myths, 36, 40, 42 
Parcse, 30 

Paris, 40, 45, 54, 55, 58 
Pase, Earl of, 156 
Pasiphae, 22 
Patrise, 203 
Patroklos, 20 
Peirithoos, 14 
Pellam, 93 
Pelias, 14 
Pelleas, 108, 110 
Pelles, 21, 50, 199 
Pellinore, 22, 87, 92 
Pendragon Castle, 147 

— Uther, 16, 81, 234, 240 
Penelope, 38, 62 

Percivale, 21, 47, 51, 87, 183 et seq. 

— sister of, 24, 47, 195 
Perilous Castle, the, 35, 131 



Index. 



4c; 



PER 



Perilous chapel, the, 106 

— pass, the, 121 

— seat, the, 97, 164, 175 
Perin of Montbeliard, 93 
Peris of the forest, 115 
Persant of Inde, 122 
Persephone, 10, 64 
Perseus, 8, 17, 23 
Pescheur/180 
Peticrewe, 259 
Phaethon, 14 

Pballos, myths connected with the, 

49 , 
Philoktetes, 40 

Phoibos, 14, 16, 18, 29, 44, 58 
Pilgrim of love, 30, 77 
Pillars or rods, 109 
Pinabel, 344 et seq. 
Pine], 202 

Poison, death by, 74 
Poisoned weapons, 39, 137, 144, 250, 

265 

— robes, 28, 40, 61, 106 
Pollux, 23 
Polydegmon, 10 
Polydektes, 75 
Polyidos, 35 
Polyneikes, 14, 18 
Pomegranate, the, 12 

Popular stories, classification of, 14 

Potenhithe, 294 

Prettyhands, 29, 32, 63, 71, 117 et 

seq. 
Princess on the glass hill, 32 
Pristina, 347 
Prokles, 14 
Prokris, 10, 18, 38, 58 
Prometheus, 14 
Protogeneia, 10 
Punchkin, 13, 61 
Python, 78 

Q 

Quails in mythology, 11 
Queen Bride, 77 

— of Eastland, 113 

— of the Pive Plowers, 35 

— of Orkney, 130, 154 

— of the Out Isles, 113 

— of the Waste Land, 230 



SAD 



E 



Ragnar Lodbrog, 20, 56 
Rama, 14 
Rapunzel, 35 
Bavana, 78 
Ray n burn, 318 
Red City, the, 47 

— Lawns, Knight of the, 29, 118, 
122 

Redesoun, 274 

Regin, 21 

Regnier, 300, 308 

Relics, alleged evidence of, 2 

Repetition of myths, 44 

Reproduction, symbols of, 27, 36 

Reyner of Chester, 380 

Rhea, cup of, 49 

Rhymer, Thomas the, 38 

Rich Peter the Pedler, story of, 60 

Ring, King, 38 

— the magic, 35, 36, 69, 131 et seq., 
279, 365 

— of Allah-ud-Deen, 36 

— of G-yges, 36 
Rinkrank, 38 

Robe, the poisoned, 28, 40, 67, 106 

Robert the Red, 376 

Robin Hood, 16 

Rod of Wealth, 49 

Rohand, 245, 248, 297 

Roland, 6, 16, 65 et seq., 320 et seq. 

Roland Rise, 245 

Roman kings, artificial chronology of 

the reigns of the, 6 
Rome, Emperor of, 86, 110 
Romulus and Remus, 8, 14, 16, 32 
Roncesvalles, battle of, 66, 329 et seq. 
Rosamund, Fair, 3 
Rose Maiden, the, 11 

— of the Alhambra, 35 

Round Table, the, 25, 36, 49, 96, 
182, 242 

— knights of the, 96, 177 
Rudrau, 14 

Rustem, 37 
Ryons, 22, 88, 92 



Saber, 62, 269, 291 
S-idok, 37, 155, 303 



4o8 



Index, 



SAD 



TIN 



Sadonne, 353 

Sails, black and white, 265 
Samson, 322 

Sanam, daughter of Earl, 85 
Sangreal, the, 26, 36, 46, 48, 165, 
168, 180, 197 

— achievement of the, 52 

— etymology of the word, 27 
Saraina, 54 

Sarras, city of, 47, 195 

Sarpedon, 10, 14, 45, 55 

Saturnus, 12 

Savitar, 17, 68 

Scabbard, the magic, 88, 102, 105 

Scef, 37, 47, 381 

Scott, Sir Walter, novels of, ] 5 

Scyld, 37, 381 

Sebastian, 59, 70 

Segard, 297 

Segwarides, 39, 139, 145, 255 

Segwin, 303 

Seirens, 38 

Selene, 10, 59 

Serapis, 49 

Serpent of darkness, 56, 64 

Servius Tullius, 37, 71 

Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, 59, 69 

Ship of Athene, 49 

faith, 149 

Isis, 49 

the dead, 46, 159, 208 

Ships, Phaiakian, 48, 381 

Shortshanks, 32 

Siege Perilous, the, 97, 164 

Sigmund, 16, 17 

Sigrun, 24 

Sigurd, 18, 37, 38, 45, 64 

Simon, Abbot, 364 

Sisyphos, 13, 30 

Sita, 78 

Siza, Pass of, 330 et seq. 

Sleep, 45 

Snake-leaves, the, 35, 128 

Snakes, in mythology, 74, 278 

— and weasels, 63, 227 

Solar myths, imagery of, 29, 79 
Solomon, bed of, 194 

— ewer of, 49 
Soma, 14 

Soria Moria Castle, 32 
Sisters, the fatal, 30, 47, 107 
Spear, the mystic, 49, 166, 199 
Spiritual place, the, 47, 195 



Sphinx, 65, 78 

Spring, myths of the, 1 1 

Stauros, 49 

Stone, the magic, 46, 279 

Subordination of mythical heroes, 

22, 44, 46 
Sun, emblems of the, 49 

— myths of the, 10, 28, 48, 65, 70 
Surya, 14 

Surya Bai, 12, 35 
Swanborough, 371 
Sword, the naked, 42, 174 

— of Aigeus, 1 7 

Arthur, 16 et seq. 

Balin, 95 

Bevis, 17, 273 

Perseus, 1 7 

Eoland, 17, 67 

Sigmund, 19 

Sigurd, 41 

Theseus, 1 7 

Tristrem, 260 

Volsung, 16 

Syrak, 283 



Taillefer, 347 

Taliessin, cup of, 49 

Tamlane, 60 

Tanhaiiser, 59, 69 

Tantalos, 13, 30, 52 

Tarnkappe, 23 

Tawiskara, 13 

Tedbald of Rheims, 323 

Tegan Euroron, 46 

Telephos, 8 

Tells of Riitli, 59, 76 

Terry, 277, 290 

Thanatos, 10 

Theseus, 14 

— sword of, 17 

Thestias, 26 

Thetis, 20 

Thierry, 63, 308 

Thriai, 30 

Thomas, True, or Thomas the 

Rhymer, 38, 69 
Thorold, 300 
Thrushbeard, 72 
Thucydides, euemerism of, 4 
Tierry, 344 
Tintagel Castle, 81 



Index. 



TIT 



XAN 



Tithonos, 69 
Tor, 22, 97, 100 
Torch of Olger, 362 
Tramtrist, 137 et seq., 251 
Treasure, lost or stolen, 64, 78 

et seq., 392 
Treves, holy coat of, 77 
Triamour, 259, 313 
Tristram, 25, 28, 135 et seq., 245 

et seq. 

— and Arthur, 160 

Lancelot, 152 

Olger, 361 

Palamides, 163 

— banishment of, 150, 260 

— death of, 217, 266 

— madness of, 43, 149, 264 

— <pi\oyvvr\s, 39 

— sculptured hall of, 262 

— sword of, 260 

— treachery of, 257 

— the dragon-slayer, 38, 252 

harper, 38, 42, 136, 247 

huntsman, 37, 136, 247 

stranger, 265 

— in the Norse ship, 246 

— versions of the myth of, 38 
Trinchesis, 280 

Trojan War, versions of the myth of 

the, 4, 44 
Trolls, 62 
Turpin, 323 et seq. 
Turquine, 114 

Twelve Peers, the, 333 et seq. 
Twin Deities, 13, 23 
Two Brothers, 14, 38, 41, 94, 282 

— Kings' children, 14 

— Sisters, 14 

— Swords, knight of the, 91 

— wanderers, 14 

Tylor, Mr. E. B., on the comparison 

and classification of myths, 9 
Tyr, 17 



U 

Ubbe, 72, 377 

Ulfin, 81 

Una and the lion, 46 

Urgan, 259 

Uriens, 20, 92, 100 

TIrre of Hungary, 46, 214 



Urry, 300 
Ushas, 17 
Ushasau, 14 
Uther Pendragon, 16 
Uwaine, 30, 104 
— les Avoutres, 189 



409 



81, 234, 240 



Varuna, 14 
Veillantif, 332 
Venus, 60 

Vestal virgins, 26, 50 
Vikram, story of, 64, 65 
Visions, allegorical, 239 
Vivian, 347 
Volsunga Saga, 16 
Vritra, 78 



W 



Waegmundings, 77 

Wainamoinen, 38 

Wanderers, in mythology, 27 etseq., 

88 
Wayland, 384 
Wealtheow, 385 
Weapons, mythical, 21, 22, 44, 70, 

77, 82, 89, 174, 273 

— poisoned, 39, 137, 144, 250, 265 
Weasel, the, 314 

Weeping Castle, the, 141 

Wegtam, 29 

Weird Sisters, 30, 47, 58, 107, 229 

White Castle, 169 

Widow's son, the, 32 

Wight, Isle of, 291 

Wiglaf, 394 

William of Cloudslee, 16 

— of Malmesbury on the story of 
Arthur, 4 

— Tell, 16 

— Wendut, 376 

Winter and Spring, myths of the, 1 1 
Wishing Cup, 23 
Wuotan, 16, 29 



Xanthos, 10, 45 



4io 



Index. 



YNO 
Y 



Ynor, 279, 293 

Yoni, 26, 49 

Ysonde the Fair. (See Isolte) 



ZOH 

z 



Zaleukos, 3 
Zaragoz, 320 
Zethos, 14 
Zohak, 56 



LONDON : PRINTED ET 

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WORKS BY THE REV. G. W. COX, M.A. 

In Two Volumes, 8vo. price 28s. cloth, 

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE 
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BY THE 

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LATE SCHOLAR OF TRINITY COLLEGE, OXFORD. 



OPINIONS of the PBESS. 



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stories.' Daily News. 

'It is impossible, in the limited space 
which we can devote to the work before 
us, to do justice either to the interest of 
its subject or to the varied scholarship and 

ingenuity of its Author It will be 

seen from this how vast are the materials 
of these volumes ; how calculated to in- 
terest scholars generally, and to instruct 
the wiser student of folk-lore who desires 
to know what great truths are veiled under 
our popular myths ; and consequently how 
well the book deserves to take the very 
foremost rank as an authority in the im- 
portant study of popular mythology.' 
Notes and Queries. 

'This is one of those few books which, 
instead of criticising, we prefer to recom- 
mend. Every one who is interested in 
the great subject of which it treats is 
bound not only to read it but to possess 
it ; no one who pretends to speak with 
the slightest authority about mythology 
in general, or about any one of its many 
branches, can afford to ignore it. In an 



age which is painfully fertile in super= 
ficial treatises upon profound subjects — 
in hastily compiled collections of small 
views of great matters— it is a consolation 
to meet with a work which has been care- 
fully framed, which offers every evidence 
of having been undertaken with good 
reason, carried out with due deliberation, 
and treated in a style which is satisfactory 
in its process and agreeable in its results. 
A great scholar may write a very dull 
treatise— a clever bookmaker may produce 
such a travesty as shall make critics weep ; 
but when a waiter combines learning and 
literary capability he is not likely to miss 
success ; and in the present case Mr. Cox 
does combine these two qualifications, and 
the consequence is that he has produced a 
book which must be very successful, 
unless the readers of the present day are 
utterly unworthy of having good fare set 
before them. In the limited space allotted 
to us it is quite impossible to do anything 
like justice to the details of Mr. Cox's 
work ; for to treat such a book fairly a 
critic ought to have at least as many 
pages at his disposal as a good-sized 
pamphlet generally contains. The ordi- 
nary mode of criticising the results of a 
scholar's hard and long-continued work 
is, as we are well aware, to test it here 
and there by means of the index, and to 
shew off the critic's second-hand learning 
at the expense of the literary subject 
which he is dissecting, pointing out a 
weak point here and an unsound spot 
there; but such a mode of treatment 
would be entirely beside the mark in the 
present case. Cordial praise appears to 
us to be what a great part of Mr. Cox's 
labour of love deserves ; and when we 
have accorded that, he will perhaps forgive 
us if we venture to find a little fault with 
portions of what we consider, on the 
whole, an admirable performance.' 

Athenaeum. 



Works by the Eev. Gr. W. Cox, M.A. 



MYTHOLOGY OF THE ARYAN NATIONS. 



OPINIONS of the PB ESS- continued. 



,,T)ie 9?td)(tg!cit beg <5a£eg bafj 
alle SReltgtonen aug tern 9#orgen~ 
lanb ftammen tft eben fo swetfellog 
al§ tie 2Cufgabe fdbwtertg tjt/ bte 
getfHge <Stnt)eit ttjrer Urfprunggs 
quetlen nadijutreifen. ©emtjj tjl nur 
bie^/ ba§ tie oergletcbenbe Sfaltgtongs 
njiflenfdhaft atletn ben ©dbliiflfel gu 
btefem ©efyetmntfj bieten fann$ unb 
bap bte norbmenbtgfte SSorarbett jur 
Cofung be§ St&tljfelS oon bee uerglet= 
cbenben SftotfyolOAte x>errtd)iet merben 
muf/ bte ttjrerfettg am unmtttclbar* 
ften mtt ber Bpvad^ unb ©e[d)td)tgs 
fovfefyung oerfnupft tjl. 

ft&k beutfdjc 5e(crt)elt^ bte an 



btefen bebeurfamen ^ragen Snfereffe 
hat, ttnrb eg freuen $u oernefymen, 
bajj btefe SSorarbeit oon einem eng* 
lifd)en ©elebrten nnrfltdv unb jrcar 
in grofem SSRafflab/ aufgenommen 
roorben ift, ber offen befennt, baf er 
oon ben 2Crbetten unfereg Sanbgs 
manneg SSttaj: duller gur oer* 
gletd)enben SOtytbofogte entfefyeibenbe 
2Cnregung empfangen t)abe. 

//Sag gmeibanbtge 2Ser! con Gor. 
emfyalt ben erflen^ mtr umfaffenber 
©elefyrfamfett angeftetften/ SSerfud) 
bte (Stnfyett ber SMptijologte aller 
arifdjen Golfer nacbjuroetfen." 

Mgemeine £ettung. 



Works by the same Author: — 
TALES of ANCIENT GBEECE, price 6s. 6d. 
MANUAL of MYTHOLOGY, in Question and Answer, price 3s. 
The TALE of the GREAT PERSIAN WAR, from Herodotus, 

price 35. 6d. 

LATIN and TEUTONIC CHRISTENDOM, an Historical 

Sketch, price 4s. 6d. 

• The volume, as a whole, comprises the I French Count is met by the Englishman's 
results of wide information and patient 
thought, and will be full of interest even 
to those who are least disposed to acquiesce 

in all its conclusions Every student of 

history will thank Mr. Cox for many valu- 
able suggestions, even if he shouJd not 
always be disposed to apply them in ex- 
actly the same way.' Saturday Review. 

' We trust that Mr. Cox's only too little 
book may have the wide circulation it 
merits ; go where it may, the vast amount 
of information it contains, expressed 
clearly and logically, cannot fail to inter- 
est and instruct.' English Churchman. 

' This little volume traverses the sub- 
jects of the Papacy, Mahomet, and the 
monastic orders as handled by Montalem- 
bert.- The enthusiastic mind of the 



gocd sense and appeal to facts; and the 
treatment of that enchanted ground is so 
frank, and yet so decisive, that it may be 
considered a good counteractive for such 
of the ardent-minded as are liable to be 
hurried away by the mere romance of me- 
diaeval monachism,' Record. 

' Mr. Cox has republished, with con- 
siderable alteration and revision, some 
essays contributed to the Edinburgh Ke- 
view, of which the most noteworthy and 
compleie in itself is one which deals with 
M. Montalembert's Monks of the West. 
They are eloquently written, character- 
ised by that fullness of allusion and illus- 
tration which comes only from a real 
knowledge of a subject, and conceived in a 
broad and liberal spirit.' Spectator. 



The DICTIONARY of SCIENCE, LITERATURE, and ART, 

Fourth Edition, reconstructed by the late Professor Brande and the Rev. 
G. W. Cox. In Three "Volumes, medium 8vo. price G'3s. 



London : LONGMANS and CO. Paternoster Row. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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